


The Princess and Her Sultan

by Hookedonapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Captain Duckling, Captain Swan - Freeform, Consensual, Early Modern Era, F/M, Historical Fantasy, Princess Emma, Royalty, Sultan Killian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hookedonapirate/pseuds/Hookedonapirate
Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumplestiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma's charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchamber every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: I'm adding this to make sure everyone is aware that this story takes place in a very different time than the modern world we live in today. Neverland in this story is based on the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century where people had very different beliefs, customs and views, where age 12 was considered adulthood. In this au, slaves and human trafficking are commonplace and women in the Eastern world did not have the same rights of the Western world and were considered nothing more than property. While I have made sure Emma was older than 12 (I was not comfortable with writing her that young while having sex and giving birth, that's where I draw the line) she is still barely 18 when she is kidnapped, and while the relationship between Emma and Killian is consensual, Emma is presented to him as a slave. The Killian we know and love lives in a very different world in this story, so he cannot be held to the same standards as the show, but he's still a saint compared to the sultans of his time.
> 
> With that said, I am in no way claiming to condone anything that takes place in this story, it is purely fictional in it's characters and settings, but if you are not comfortable with reading anything that contains what I've just mentioned, then this may not be a story for you. Otherwise, I welcome you on this journey with open arms :)
> 
> I've wanted to write an Enchanted Forrest for quite a while, and also a historical AU, but never had the motivation or courage for either. But, this is something I’ve had on my brain for a really long time and I was able to combine both with this story. This is loosely based on the story of Sultan Suleyman and Hurrem, with the television series, Magnificent Century used as a reference. I've rated it Explicit because I'm not sure how much violence or smut will be in it, as I'm still the process of writing it, but I will add trigger warnings as they apply. There will be smut but there will also be tons of plot, so if you were looking for a PWOP fic, sorry but you will be disappointed.
> 
> Huge shout outs go to @ilovemesomekillianjones and @gingerchangeling for looking it over and for all of your helpful feedback, and @onceuponaprincessworld for listening to me talk about this story for months and being my sounding board.
> 
> Here is just a short prologue, but this will most likely be a monster of a story.

Misthaven basks in the September sun on a balmy day, the bright, azure sky dotted with a few scattered clouds. The Royal Castle stands tall above the land at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the mountains and the calm cerulean sea. The people of Misthaven live prosperous lives under their rulers, King David and Queen Snow.

After King George had perished, his adopted son, David, who was already married to Snow, succeeded him. At the time, the monarchy was weak. King George had not been popular among the nobles due to his pointless wars and unwelcomed policies. But King David and Queen Snow had set out to, and accomplished, increasing the power of the crown, thus winning over the loyalty of the people. They had replaced disloyal nobles with loyal ones, put a stop to the raids of lawless vassals, granted charters to many towns and reduced the debt the kingdom had inherited from David’s adoptive father.

Misthaven is now a powerful kingdom. However, there is one neighboring kingdom even more powerful—the Dark Kingdom—ruled by King Rumplestiltskin, also known as the Dark One.

The drawbridge between the town and the castle is down, allowing the townsfolk to gather around the front of the castle, for it’s an important day for Misthaven and its people. The anticipation is high and the kingdom is frantic, both outside and within the castle walls, as the men-at-arms are on guard and the maidens and servants are scrambling throughout the castle in complete chaos. It’s a day and event that could possibly lead to either the success or failure of the kingdom—the birth of the King and Queen’s first child. The townsfolk converse amicably or whisper among themselves as they readily await the birth, hoping to catch a glimpse of the royal baby.  _Will it be a boy? A future King?_ Speculations of the newborn’s gender have echoed throughout the kingdom for the months leading up to this day.

Queen Snow’s blood-curdling screams can be heard throughout the castle as King David eagerly and restlessly awaits in the anteroom, frantically pacing back and forth, for he is not allowed in his wife’s bedchamber during the birth.

He’s on the verge of exploding with fear and panic from hearing his wife cry out in pain. He wants to be by her side and comfort her, and the fact that he can’t is absolute torture. Queen Snow is his true love, they had met while they were both arranged to marry other people. Princess Snow had run away while she was betrothed to another prince against her will. She’d stolen David’s ring, the only thing he had left of his mother’s, from the carriage during his and Princess Abigail’s travel between their two kingdoms.

David was orphaned at eight years old after his village was raided, his twin brother was captured and his parents were killed in front of his eyes, along with several other people. David had escaped and was taken in by King George who had no children of his own and didn’t have a single heir to the throne because he’d alienated all members of his family and had no wife.

King George had arranged David’s betrothal to Abigail, the daughter of King Midas of Goldmark, but both were in love with other people. When King George found out his son was secretly going behind his back to see princess Snow, he was furious and determined to keep them separated. He had succeeded at first, but Prince David and Princess Snow had found their way back to each other. Once reunited, they married immediately. King George died afterwards, during a raid against the rebels who named David as their leader, even though the prince had forbidden anyone from harming his father. David was crowned king, but to this day carries the guilt of King George’s death, as well as a painful cilice around his waist every Lent to atone for his sins.

When the loud, lusty wails of the baby are finally heard, David can no longer restrain himself. He moves quickly towards the door, pushing past the many servants to get to his wife and newborn. He throws the door open and steps inside, his breath taken when he sees the most beautiful sight—his lovely wife, holding their child in her arms.

Rushing to her side, he places a kiss on her forehead and strokes her hair. Snow is flushed and sweaty, donning a tired smile as a tear rolls down her rosy cheek. Dark locks of hair are matted to her head, but she is a stunning sight to behold. His heart bursts when he feasts his eyes upon the baby in his wife’s embrace.

“She’s strong and healthy,” Snow whispers faintly, struggling to keep her eyelids open, exhaustion wearing her lovely features.

“She?”

“Yes, a princess,” Snow smiles.

King David grins big and proud as he watches his tiny daughter, now calm and comforted by the soft coos of her mother. “She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, mesmerized by his daughter and how she slowly stirs in her mother’s arms. “What have you decided to name her?”

His wife peers up at him and smiles brightly. “Emma.”

The anxious crowd is on pins and needles as the king emerges onto the balcony, overlooking the castle court, with his baby daughter draped in linen. The people cheer upon seeing their king holding the heir-presumptive to his throne.

He raises a hand to silence the crowd and announces, “I’d like to present to you the Princess of Misthaven, Princess Emma!”

All the townsfolk shout and rejoice, wishing the newborn good fortunes.

King David smiles warmly at his beautiful daughter, paying no mind to the crowd as she gazes up at him with big eyes. He gently caresses her cheek, feeling confident knowing that one day his princess will make a fine queen.

Prince Leopold II is born five years later and becomes the first in line for the throne. But the parents are not crestfallen. Instead, they agree to find a respectable prince from another kingdom suitable enough to marry their daughter.

“They will rule together,” David concurs, but at the same time, it hurts him to utter such words.

Though it is normal practice to arrange a marriage between royalty at a tender age or sometimes at birth, to keep the royal bloodline pure, the thought of his daughter getting married makes him wince. She is but a small girl who is always climbing atop his lap to coax a story out of him and snuggling her head against his chest. He can’t think of her at an age where he is marrying her off to some dashing prince or noble knight who whisks her away on a white horse. He just can’t. However, the future of his daughter depends on it. She is a princess destined to be a queen. Her beauty alone makes her worthy of such a title, let alone her sharp-wit and intelligence, especially at such a young age.

“But, only if Emma agrees to the betrothal. Perhaps she can find love as we did?” Queen Snow cogitates, peering at the small prince as she cradles him in her arms.

The king nods. “We can only hope.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your responses for the prologue have amazed and overwhelmed me, it was so unexpected to me! Thank you all so much!
> 
> Here is the first chapter. Trigger warnings include assault and a non-consensual kiss, but not between captain swan. They have yet to meet, and this will be a bit of a slow burn, but I hope to make it worth the wait. With that said, if you're of a fan of Baelfire, this may not be a fic for you, unless you don't mind some Baelfire/Neal bashing.
> 
> Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones for your wonderful beta skills and @gingerchangeling for all of your suggestions and feedback! This story wouldn't be the same without these lovely ladies.

Emma's emerald green eyes glitter in the sun, long golden hair flowing behind her as she rides a horse with her brother and their guards.

 

Over the years, she had transformed from an adorable young girl to an elegant young woman. Her cheekbones are high and prominent, she has fair, ivory skin, and her beauty is only increasing with every day. Emma is growing into a fine young woman who’s loved by all of her people. She is growing too quickly for King David’s liking. He looks at her and sees the small baby he’d held in his arms merely fifteen years ago.

 

Emma is wise beyond her years, well behaved and proper, with a serious demeanor while her brother is a rambunctious young boy who can never stay still. King David smiles as he watches the two of them riding off from the stables, Leo asking her to slow down so he can catch up. He knows that over time, Leopold will take after his sister and will be competent and mature enough to make a great king.

 

While the prince and princess are gone, Snow and David receive a letter from King Rumplestiltskin. They are both surprised to learn that Rumple wishes to visit with their family and discuss the betrothal of his eldest son, Baelfire, and their daughter.

 

David is not sure how he feels about the idea, and honestly, he’s a bit perturbed and shocked King Rumplestiltskin would even propose this. He has no reason to find an ally in Misthaven.

 

Rumplestiltskin is a powerful king of unconquerable lands, but even the vastness of the Dark Kingdom over which he rules, is nothing in comparison with his pride. He was once a sweet, orphaned miller growing up in poor living conditions, but that all changed when he was taken in by a very powerful king who died of the plague years later. Rumor has it, however, that Rumplestiltskin had played a key role in the predecessor’s death, for he is very cunning and good at making the people bend to his will. It is believed and spoken across the lands that he has been possessed by a demon, because how else could an amiable young man turn into such a vile creature? The rumors eventually gave him his moniker, the Dark One, and once he had taken the throne, he was feared by all in the Dark Kingdom, which had only increased his power over time. So, he did not need the security of David’s friendship or an alliance with Misthaven, which leaves David mystified by Rumplestiltskin's letter, and also skeptical.

 

Uniting the two kingdoms will certainly avert a war between them and undoubtedly make them a great superpower, there’s no denying it, but Emma has never even met the neighboring prince. David had made a promise to her she would only marry for love, not obligation. But if he refuses the wishes of Rumpelstiltskin, David fears he will incur the wrath of the Dark One.

 

~*~

 

The sound of galloping hooves along the dirt-covered forest floor gives Emma a rush as she grips the reins tightly in her fists. She loves riding in the Enchanted Forest; she enjoys leaving the castle for a short time, feeling the wind in her hair and the thrill of racing through the woods with her brother by her side. It relaxes and calms her like nothing else, and when they occasionally ride on the shore of the beach, with the view of the sea and the taste of the salt water on her tongue, she longs to see what is beyond. She has read and heard many stories, and her studies of politics, public affairs and history have taught her what goes on in the world, but her father forbids her from venturing out into it. He's so protective, wanting to keep her from harm's way in any manner he can. And while she loves him dearly and abides by him, she wishes for just one day, she could be normal. Not a Princess. She can't even fathom what that would be like.

 

Emma and Leo head home before twilight, returning their horses to the stables.

 

Upon entering the throne room in high spirits and laughing with her brother, she witnesses the change in her father's face compared to when she and her brother had left. Both parents look distraught. Had Emma and Leo been away too long for their liking?

 

“I'm sorry Mother and Father, we lost track of time.”

 

David sighs deeply, concern etched in his features as he approaches his daughter. “Your timeliness or lack thereof is not what worries us, you have returned home before your curfew.”

 

Emma's brows furrow. “Then what is it?”

 

He pulls out a letter and opens it up, reading it aloud.

 

~*~

 

On the sixth of the midwinter month, the feast day that celebrates gift giving, Emma is sitting up straight in her chair and glaring at Baelfire with those luminous green eyes. David had seen the seventeen-year-old prince and his younger half-brother, Gideon’s, gaping mouths and wide eyes as they had drooled at the mere sight of her from the moment they’d entered the throne room and saw Princess Emma. With a glance at Baelfire, David sees him return her devil stare with that of a dangerous smirk. The king’s stomach churns at the way the Prince drinks in her figure. She is only fifteen and already men and boys alike can’t keep their eyes off of her. She steals the hearts of all knights and noblemen who look at her. Of course, impeccable Emma isn’t aware what those looks mean, nor the intentions behind them, but David can see right through them.

 

She turns away from Prince Baelfire and responds to Queen Belle when asked a question, no longer paying attention to the prince as he continues to admire her beauty. She is not happy about the circumstances, but she understands the importance of her betrothal to Baelfire and had agreed to meet him. Her parents want to give her the chance to get to know the prince before the wedding so Emma has a chance to grow fond of Baelfire.

 

King David however, does not like the looks of him. The prince has an unfavorable reputation. He’s heard stories of Prince Baelfire gambling and drinking at the tavern and spending his nights with sordid women. David has a bad taste in his mouth at the mere thought of Baelfire putting his paws on the beloved Princess of Misthaven.

 

The prince may have his work cut out for him, though, as she obviously does not reciprocate any feelings he expresses for her.

 

When King David dismisses everyone from the hall, he moves swiftly to his quarters with King Rumplestiltskin following behind him, leaving their queens to chat among themselves.

 

“How old is Princess Emma?” the Dark One asks him after David settles in his chair, quickly getting down to business.

 

“She is fifteen.”

 

“And she is not betrothed yet?”

 

“No, she is not.”

 

King Rumplestiltskin nods and appears to be in thoughtful contemplation. “My son is quite taken by your daughter, and not to be blamed. She is of great beauty and intelligence, and as I had spoken in my letter, I’d like to arrange a betrothal,” he says.

 

David has a feeling the statement is not a request, but more of a demand. David eyes him warily, not wanting to refuse him, but he has to think of his daughter at the same time. “With all due respect, Prince Baelfire has quite the reputation, does he not?”

 

“He does.” The king slowly paces in front of David, a troubled expression on his face. “And that is what worries me. Baelfire is first in line for the throne, but I’m afraid he will not uphold my legacy when I'm gone. He has often been caught at the tavern drinking and doting with lowlife peasants. He is impudent and doesn’t take his crown seriously. I’m afraid he may not be suitable or habile enough to take the throne and uphold the reputation of the kingdom. It appears Princess Emma, however, is properly groomed for the throne, I believe she will have great influence on Baelfire and can turn him into a prince who will make me proud.” He stops and turns to meet David’s eye. “If your daughter were to marry my son, she will be an outstanding ruler and queen one day.”

 

“She will be, but what other interest is to be gained from marrying your son if she does not love him?”

 

“There has been peace between our lands, and if your highness agrees to the betrothal of Prince Bae and Princess Emma, I can guarantee peace for the foreseeable future.” Rumple’s lips curl up into a menacing smirk. “If you deny my request, I will be your worst enemy,” he says with a patronizing grin, his eyes daring the other king to refute him.

 

King David stands, seething with anger. “You threaten me in my own castle?” The audacity! He’s tempted to retrieve his father's sword from above the mantel behind him.

 

Rumple shows no remorse. “If you don't accept my proposal, your castle and your kingdom will ultimately be mine, I’ll make sure of that,” he promises, standing so close, King David can smell his strong breath, the unpleasant stench passing through David's flaring nostrils.

 

As insulted as he feels, David does not want to wage a war against the powerful king.

 

~*~

 

“But David, we made a promise to Emma,” Snow shrieks when David reveals Rumplestiltskin's deal. She storms out to the balcony, looking out over the sea, and he follows behind her. An unseasonably warm breeze sweeps over them as they decide the fate of their daughter—of their kingdom.

 

David comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around his wife, but she doesn’t melt into him like she normally does. “We did when she was a baby, but if we agree to the marriage, our kingdom will be secured,” he coos in a soothing voice, caressing her arms over the sleeves of her nightgown.

 

Snow White turns around in his hold and looks up him, her eyes full of worry and concern for their daughter. “But, is this really the best choice? Rumplestiltskin said it himself, Baelfire is not fit for our princess. She is too special to be given away to some rogue who will only seek another’s company after the marriage is consummated.”

 

David cringes at the idea; he doesn’t wish this kind of future for his daughter. “Perhaps we can give him a chance. He’s still young. This arrangement may change him. We can announce the betrothal, but the wedding doesn't have to take place immediately. Rumplestiltskin has promised to give us time. Emma is not to marry until her eighteenth birthday.”

 

“And what if Baelfire doesn’t change? What if Emma doesn't grow to love him? If we break off the betrothal, Rumplestiltskin will never tolerate such an affront.”

 

David sighs, knowing she’s right. “Then we have to hope Emma will love him. We can let them spend time together before the wedding.” He caresses his wife’s cheek to calm her nerves, and she finally succumbs, letting her eyes fall shut at his touch. “What if we left it up to our daughter to do the right thing? If after their time together, she chooses not to marry Baelfire, then we’ll suffer the consequences. We’ll do it for Emma.”

 

Snow nods and opens her eyes. “Emma is wise enough to make the right decision, for herself and for the kingdom.”

 

David smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Yes, she is. It will all work out, my dear, I just know it.”

 

They discuss Rumple's proposal with Emma and, at first, she is not happy and argues with her parents regarding the issue. Emma is very skeptical about the Prince’s character and potential to run a kingdom. She and Baelfire do not even have the same interests, which she had discovered immediately upon meeting him, but eventually, she caves. Knowing it’s best for her kingdom, she agrees to the betrothal for her parents and for her brother's future as king of Misthaven.

 

With her parent’s trust in Emma’s hands, a treaty of peace is signed between King David of Mishaven and King Rumplestiltskin of the Dark Kingdom. The Dark One also agrees to wait until Emma’s eighteen birthday for the marriage, for her parents feel she is too young to wed and her body is not ready to bear children.

 

The news of the agreement travels quickly, and while some are excited for the union of the kingdoms, there is one person in particular who is greatly angered by this. Lady Maleficent slams her fist on the table, full of rage. It was supposed to have been her daughter to marry the prince! Lily was supposed to be Queen of the Dark Kingdom; Maleficent has waited years for this. Their children had been betrothed at birth, and in her eyes, the betrothal is still valid. Forbye, she has been a loyal countess and friend to the king and now he has arranged the betrothal between his son and a Misthavian?! Well, she will see about that. There cannot be a marriage if the princess isn't present at the wedding. Her scowl quickly transforms into a devilish look at the thought, and she calls on one of her henchmen. Both kingdoms will pay for its treachery against her.

 

~*~

 

“Sister, for heaven's sake, can’t you hurry up?” Leo asks impatiently as she sits on her bed cross-legged in her riding leathers, weaving her long, golden hair into a braid. “You’ve kept Bae waiting for nearly an hour.”

 

“Let him wait.”

 

“But, Em—” he starts to whine before she cuts him off.

 

“Patience, Leo, or you will not be allowed to ride with us.”

 

Leopold climbs up on the bed, next to Emma, giving her his best pout. “Why must you choose him over me anyway?”

 

She looks over him under long, dark lashes as her eyes widen in surprise. “What do you mean? You’re my brother, I would never choose anyone over you.”

 

“But you spend all of your time with Baelfire instead of me,” he sulks sadly, looking down to avoid her gaze.

 

Emma’s heart breaks at her brother's words and the look on his face. She _has_ spent a lot of time with the prince now that she is betrothed to him. “Oh, dear brother, that’s not true. You are always welcome to come with us, you know that, but it’s my duty to spend time with Prince Baelfire. He and I are betrothed.”

 

“But you do not love him, do you?” her brother questions.

 

She silently condemns Leo for his perceptive mind; he’s becoming too much like her. “Not yet, but eventually,” she assures him. “I shall grow to love him and become queen of his kingdom, but no matter what happens, you will always be my little brother, got it?”

 

“Promise?”

 

Emma laughs and drops a kiss to the crown of his head before ruffling a hand through his curly, brown hair. “Promise. Now, let’s go riding, shall we?”

 

A big smile lights up his face and he jumps off the bed, racing for the door. “I’ll beat you to the stables!”

 

Emma launches from the bed and runs after her brother, both giggling through the halls of the castle and getting scolded by the guards and servants along the way.

 

~*~

 

The next day, Emma challenges Baelfire to a game of chess. She loves chess and knows if the man she is to marry does not have the same affection for the game, then she will never love him. Although it is not really a game to her, it’s a passion, for it challenges her mind, unlike most people she encounters, and it’s very therapeutic. Her late uncle, whom she’d never met also had a love for the game, and there is a chess piece, a white knight, David had swiped after James was taken from his village and killed by slavers. David had carried it with him so he could carry a piece of his brother wherever he went. He had passed it on to Emma once he discovered her love for chess; she was merely five years old at the time.

 

When she presents the game to Baelfire, however, judging by the puzzled look on his face, she realizes she may have her work cut out for her if she is to teach chess to him.

 

“What is this game you speak of?”

 

It turns out the prince has never heard of chess, nor played it, so Emma takes him to her chess board and tries to explain the game of strategy to him, but he becomes more and more confused and eventually grows frustrated.  

 

“This game is pointless!” he shouts angrily and throws one of the pieces to the floor, causing it to break in two as he tips the chessboard over, letting it crash on top of the fallen chess pieces.

 

Emma’s eyes widen as she kneels to the floor to pick the two halves of her favorite chess piece. “You broke the white knight!”

 

“Who cares? It’s just a stupid game piece,” he scoffs.

 

“This was my uncle’s! It’s all I had left of him!” she cries out furiously, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re a pig!” She dashes away and runs up to her room, but he follows behind her.

 

“Princess, I’m sorry, I didn't know. Please forgive me, Your Majesty,” he pleads with her. “I was intimidated because you are smart and beautiful, how can I ever live up to your expectations?”

 

She whirls around to see if he’s telling her the truth, but the insincerity is written all over his face. He may be as dumb as a brick, but he is cunning, she’ll give him that. He grabs her hand and pulls her to a secluded part of the hall, away from the eyes of her guards, pressing her against the wall.

 

“You have my heart Ems, and I fear I will disappoint you as a husband,” he claims softly and lifts a hand to caress her tear-stained cheek.

 

Emma stiffens and moves her head away from his touch. “Do not refer to me as such,” she snaps.

 

This angers Baelfire, and she can see his eyes brewing with rage as he grabs her arms.

 

“Unhand me this instant, you brute!” she cries out.

 

He doesn't abide by her request and instead forces her to him, pressing his mouth to hers and ravaging her lips. Emma’s eyes widen in horror, and she tries to push him away, but to no avail; he is much stronger than she. Strengthening his grip around her with one arm, he fondles her breast with the other hand and plunders her mouth with his tongue, reveling in her taste and perfection. The intrusion is far from welcomed.

 

Emma bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood and wrenches her body away from Baelfire. She raises a hand to his face, slapping him hard. He cries out in pain and slips his finger into his mouth, drawing it over his tongue where she’d injured him, and the blood seeps around his fingertip as he touches his cheek with his other hand.

 

Glaring at the princess who dared harm him, he grins unexpectedly. “You are a vixen.”

 

Fury burns under her skin. “We may have an arranged marriage, but you will not lay your hands or lips on me without my permission! And if you try to again, I can guarantee you will never be able to again, as I will cut off your tongue and both hands with my grandfather's sword!”

 

He appears to be challenged and further roused by her fierceness, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

 

Fear races through her and she scurries away, rounding a corner and running directly into a solid form. Looking up, she sees her newly hired guard, Graham Humbert who eyes her in concern.

 

“Is everything alright, Your Highness?”

 

“I’m fine,” Emma pants. “Please don't allow anyone in my chambers after me,” she commands, looking behind her to make sure Baelfire isn't chasing after her.

 

“Very well.”

 

Emma heads for her room and furiously slams the door behind her. She vows to herself she will never love Baelfire, though it has nothing to do with his disdain for chess, how he had broken her favorite chess piece or how she no longer has anything left of her Uncle James. No, the loathing she feels for Baelfire supersedes that. She is a princess, not a prized possession to be touched or ravished when he pleases, nor will she ever be.

 

She can’t breathe a word to her parents though. If they find out, they will certainly break the contract with Rumplestiltskin, as they would never agree to a marriage between their daughter and a man who would put his hands on Emma without her consent. But first, David would cut off Baelfire’s hands and tongue himself, and have them delivered to Rumplestiltskin’s doorstep. Then the Dark One will assuredly make them all pay for their disloyalty and betrayal against him. While Snow and David would gladly risk their lives for their children, Emma does not wish to put them or Misthaven in danger.

 

~*~

 

Prince Killian sits up in his bed, staring blankly into space. “You may take your leave,” he commands coldly, his face showing no emotion.

 

“Yes, my lord.” The maiden slips out of the prince’s bed and quickly dresses into the white gown she’d entered with, her head down as she backs away towards the door her knuckles gently tapping on the surface. When it opens, she’s escorted to the women’s quarters, leaving Prince Killian to his thoughts.

 

He remains in bed, his heart emptier than it has ever been. Jasmine had given herself to him willingly as they always do, but he curses himself for summoning her in the first place. She has long ebony hair, a lovely caramel skin tone and a sweet face—her physical beauty is why he had called upon her for the evening—but she is not Milah.

 

Killian sighs deeply and closes his eyes. He has grown tired of the customs of his people, but he must abide by them. He has a great responsibility on his shoulders, as his father is Sultan and Killian his heir. It will only be a matter of time before he is left with his father’s role and is further pressured to sire a prince.

 

But without his lost love, what is left? Only a darkened heart and a deep ache for her and their unborn child who’d never had a chance to breathe in the Neverland air. Since their tragic deaths, Killian has refused to find another woman to bear his prince. He refuses to bed a concubine until they've taken a potion which makes them sterile, for the thought of history repeating itself is just too much to bear.

 

He tries to sleep but is restless, so he gets out of bed and slips into a wool robe and leather slippers before opening the door and calling a slave to bring him his most trusted advisor and confidant. This man was once a slave, but Killian had spent part of his childhood with him and has grown to see him as part of the family—as a second brother. Liam was his blood and Killian has longed for him since he’d died in battle, but this other man is also someone who has been by his side through all the treachery and despair in Killian’s life.

 

He walks out onto the terrace of his private garden where he breathes in the cool air and studies the sea, the night sky glittered with stars and a silvery moon reflecting off the water. It’s very calming and peaceful.

 

“My lord, I thought you had gone to rest.”

 

The sound of the man’s voice causes Killian to whirl around, and he sees the blue-eyed falconer entering the terrace, his hands joined together in front of him.

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

The other man’s face clouds with concern. “What weighs on your mind, my lord?”

 

“It’s nothing, I think some time away from the palace is overdue. Perhaps a hunting trip is in our near future.”

 

“Of course. Anything you wish,” he answers compliantly.

 

The trip will help Killian clear his mind while escaping the everyday monotony of his life in the palace. He strides across the terrace and takes a seat in a chair, using the light of the fire from the mounted torches to aide his sight. There is one other thing that always makes him feel better. “Care for a game?”

 

His friend quickly makes his way over, sitting across from the prince. Between them is a chess board where all the pieces stand, ready to be played. They have a mutual love for the game and play every opportunity they can afford.

 

“Always.” James Nolan of Misthaven grins as he ponders his first move. “You need not ask twice, my lord.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the reviews for the last chapter, most of you are wondering about James, and while he is not seen much in this chapter, more about him will be revealed as we move along. Also, a couple of you asked whether this will be noncon or dubcon. I will just say I'm not comfortable with writing either, and while the circumstances make Emma a slave, Killian will prove to be nothing like Baelfire. But I don't want to spoil it so I won't say anything further about it :)

The sun rises over Misthaven, casting a range of colors over the sky as Emma stares out over the sea from her balcony, once again longing for a life beyond the castle. Longing for a love that will consume her entirely, as opposed to the arranged marriage with Baelfire. She adores her parents and younger brother, but she is not meant to rule Misthaven. And she certainly does not wish to rule or have anything to do with the Dark Kingdom... or its heir. Emma is revolted by the idea, certain that only a lifetime of misery awaits her. How could she have possibly agreed to the idea of marrying him? Considering everything that marriage means, Emma can’t help but feel physically ill at the idea of having to lose her maidenhead to him, or even worse, being forced to carry his child.

 

It’s a few months before the wedding, and Emma’s parents are away, leaving her to oversee the housekeeping and provisioning of the castle, and the wellbeing of the kingdom. Snow is off to visit her dear friends, King Philip and Queen Aurora, who have recently announced the news of their first born, a baby girl they had named Isabella. Meanwhile, David is on a voyage, offering aide to Goldmark, which, under the reign of King Midas, was once a great trading kingdom, famous for its gold, until it went into decline after the loss of their king.

 

Emma’s parents have great faith in her judgment and wisdom and not a shred of doubt in her capability to manage the kingdom while they are away. She has learned everything a young woman must learn—music, spinning and embroidery—but also self-defense, swordsmanship, diplomacy and how to manage large households, because she will one day rule and deal with royal courts consisting of hundreds of people.

 

Emma removes her nightgown and slips into an ivory gown made of silk, with a low-cut, square neckline and long, flowing sleeves. Around her neck, she secures a necklace with an emerald stone her sweet brother had given her as a betrothal gift, with the clasp. After covering her shoulders with a long, topaz cloak, which flows behind her when she moves, she goes to Leo’s room, where he is sprawled out, sleeping soundly in his bed. She takes a moment to admire him with a soft smile, running a hand through his hair and dropping a kiss to his temple before leaving him be and softly closing the door behind her. She descends the spiral stairwell and moves through the castle, passing several guards along the way, but she ignores them and keeps making her way to her favorite place in the castle.

 

Crossing the threshold of her mother’s garden, she is greeted by the chill of the early morning air and the smell of fragrant flowers which immediately overpower her senses. Narrow paths weave through the many flower beds, fir trees, shrubs and rows of purple, red, yellow and orange flowers flourishing as Emma walks along one of the paths which leads to a pond with a small waterfall. She lifts her skirts and sits near the edge, breathing in the fresh air. A sense of calm washes over her, clearing her mind from the muddled deliberations and settling the nerves twisting in her stomach that have plagued her since she had decided she did not want to continue her betrothal to Baelfire. This is her safe haven, her place to find clarity when she is left alone with her thoughts.

 

“Are you enjoying your time in the garden, princess?”

 

Graham’s voice interrupts her reverie, making her jump slightly, her heart stuttering a little in her chest as she presses her hand there. “I was until you startled me,” she teases, looking up at him with a warm smile.

 

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” he says sincerely, regret creasing his facial features.

 

“Tis alright. I only came to the garden because it helps relax me.”

 

“Did the night not allow you to?” he asks in concern.

 

Emma shakes her head. “Afraid not.”

 

“And why not, my princess? You must get your beauty sleep… not that you need it,” he adds with a wink.

 

Emma blushes and looks away, a small smile tugging at her lips. “There is much on my mind, I suppose.”

 

“Anything I can do to help clear your restless mind, Your Highness?”

 

“You could take me away for a while,” the princess replies before she can stop the words from tumbling off her tongue.

 

To her surprise, Graham extends his hand to her. “Your wish is my command.”

 

She looks up, studying his proffered hand suspiciously. Her reply was meant to be a joke, but he seems to have taken her words to heart. “But I was only joking,” she claims defensively.

 

Raising a brow, he looks doubtful. “Were you really?”

 

She blushes once more, a bashful smile creeping over her lips. “I suppose you caught me.”

 

“Come with me, Your Highness. I would like to take you sailing, if I may? The sea always calms me, and perhaps it will do the same for you.”

 

Emma is stunned by his offer, for he knows how much her father is against her venturing out into the sea. But she is not about to complain. A chance to have an adventure outside the castle walls gives her a thrill she cannot really describe. “You have a sailboat?”

 

“Aye,” he nods with a boastful smirk. “I am actually quite the sailor, which you will soon see for yourself if you allow me the honor to show you.”

 

Accepting his offer, she slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her up.

 

They have a basket prepared with bread, cheese, fruit and a flask of wine for their trip. She tells a servant to inform her brother she has gone for a walk and will return in the afternoon.

 

“May I ask what troubles you, Your Highness?” Graham inquires as they make their way through the woods by foot, Emma carrying the basket on her arm.

 

She looks down at her feet, wondering whether she should tell him or not. They had become friends over the years, since her parents had hired him, and she trusts him enough to confide in him about most things. Things which do not usually involve Baelfire or the unwished-for wedding, but she’s feeling emboldened at the moment by his offer to take her sailing. “Can you keep a secret?”

 

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replies without a doubt.

 

Emma sighs deeply, gathering the courage to tell him something she has not told another soul. “I do not wish to marry Prince Baelfire.”

 

Graham’s eyes blow wide, this revelation hitting him full force. “Please forgive me for asking, but for what reason, my princess?”

 

Emma looks over at him, his eyes full of curiosity. “Need I answer that?”

 

Her guard thinks about her question for a mere two seconds before chuckling. “No, Your Highness, you need not. The prince simply cannot compare to your stature. You deserve much more, my fair princess,” he bows humbly.

 

Blush spreads through her cheeks and a smile creeps over her lips uncontrollably. “Thank you kindly.”

 

“Tis but the truth,” Graham says sincerely.

 

The sight of the sea against the sky slowly creeps into their line of sight, the cerulean water sparkling and dancing under the golden sunlight. When they reach the harbor, Emma’s face clouds with confusion, for there is not a sailboat in sight, only a large ship at the port.

 

“Where is this boat you had spoken of?”

 

When Graham doesn't answer immediately, Emma grows panicked and looks to her side where she thinks he is, but it’s not until she whirls around when she finds him in front of her.

 

“Where is your craft?” she demands once again, growing angry.

 

“I am sorry, princess,” he whispers shamefully, his eyes pooling with sorrow as he looks behind her.

 

Fear strikes her like a thunderbolt, and she turns her head, seeing two men standing there. Emma’s throat goes dry and she swallows thickly, averting her attention to her guard. “Graham, I demand to know what is going on!”

 

“These men are to take you away from here.” His voice is hoarse and cracked, and the pain in his eyes is genuine. “I may work for your parents, but I was originally hired by Lady Maleficent to act as your bodyguard so I could kill you. But after meeting Your Highness I simply could not bear to act on such an injustice, so I paid a captain to take you away to safety. After lady Maleficent finds out you are still alive she will go after you. These men will protect you.”

 

Emma can’t believe her ears; she’s seeing red, her blood bubbling with rage. “I trusted you!”

 

“I know, I am truly sorry,” he murmurs, bowing his head in shame.

 

Her instincts tell her to run away, but before she can, two pairs of hands are gripping her arms, causing her to drop the basket from her hand, and it falls to the ground. Emma wrenches her body, struggling against them. “Unhand me this instant!” she cries out, her eyes full of rage.  

 

The men have a strong grip on her and she doubts they are there to look after her, especially when they pull her hands together in front of her and tie a rope snuggly around her wrists. Even Graham seems to be confused as he glances between the two men. “What are you doing? The princess is to be a passenger on your ship, not a captive.” Only when she hears the deep roar of laughter from behind, does she realize Graham is not speaking to either man holding her.

 

“About that…” The man emerges and stands in between Emma and Graham, his back facing her. She can only see his rich crimson clothing and his hair which is tied into braids, but she quickly realizes he is a pirate captain. He's wearing a long doublet adorned with gold jewelry and ornaments, velvet breeches and a tri-cornered hat garnished with an exotic red feather, and a sash is tied around his waist, holding a heavily curved cutlass.

 

Emma has only heard of pirates and the tales of these scoundrels who plunder ships and steal—but she is very aware they exist and that this man standing before her, and his crew are among them. “You see, your offer was outdone by another, and I simply could not refuse.”

 

“By who?” Graham demands, now full of rage. He tries to step forward, but two other pirates stand beside the captain daring him to do so.

 

“By Lady Maleficent. She has learned of your scheme through her little spies and came to me offering me a much better deal. So I took it. I am but a pirate, what did you expect?” The captain turns around, getting a good look at Emma, who is scowling at him fiercely and squirming in the crew’s hands. She can now see the captain’s face, his lips pulled into a devilish smirk. He wears gold hoops in his ears, which are not only an evident sign of wealth, but with the pressure on his earlobes, they possibly help ease seasickness, or so she's read. “Captain Blackbeard at your service, milady.”

 

“What will you do with me?” she asks angrily through gritted teeth.

 

“Whatever I please. You are mine now. The countess has sold you to me and now I will make even more gold when I take you to an auction house where you will be sold to the highest bidder. No ransom can possibly match what you will bring on the block.”

 

“You cannot do this!” Graham argues from behind him. “She is a princess! The king will pay you even more to release her!”

 

The captain cackles once more. “Have you not laid your eyes upon her?” Blackbeard asks in a menacing tone. He steps towards Emma, running his fingers through his long, braided beard as he scrutinizes her from head to toe. Closing in on her personal space, he gently grabs her chin, studying her facial features. His touch makes her skin crawl. “She is worth far more than a king’s ransom.”

 

Emma’s nose twists in disgust and she jerks her head, wrenching her chin from his hold and spits in his face.

 

The man wipes her saliva from his face and flings it to the ground, glowering at her. “You best be careful, princess, I may need your beauty and virtue to stay intact, but you best not test my patience. I have plenty of ways to make the voyage as insufferable as possible.” Emma glares at him, fighting the urge to vomit from smelling his foul breath. “Fight all you want, but you are mine now, so you might as well accept it.”

 

“I am no one’s!” she shrieks, thrashing against her captors.

 

Graham launches at Blackbeard, but the other crew members hold him back.

 

The captain turns to look at Graham, far from intimidated. “Go ahead and try to stop me. Your fate will be much worse than my princess.”

 

“You will be sorry when the king finds out about his daughter, Captain Blackbeard!” Graham promises, struggling against the pirates. “The king will make you and your men pay!”

 

Blackbeard laughs in pure amusement. “Good. I do enjoy a challenge, my boy.” He looks between his crew. “Take the princess to her quarters. She must be fed and pampered during the journey, and if she has one bruise or mark on her, may God help you!” he threatens menacingly and walks away, heading for his ship.

 

“Graham, you will pay for this!” Emma cries out as she’s hauled away from him, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

“Princess, I am so sorry,” he says, and she can see the honesty in his eyes. “If I had known this would happen, I would have never made a deal with him. Please believe me, Emma!”

 

She can no longer reply, too racked with hurt and anger from his betrayal as the pirates force her on the ship.

 

To her surprise, Graham climbs aboard; she hears the sound of his sword as he draws the metal blade from his belt and holds it up, prepared to fight. “You cannot take her!”

 

Blackbeard snorts. “Oh, but I can,” he pulls out his cutlass, meeting the guard halfway, “and I will.” The two men stare each other down as the captain slowly circles around the guard. “You are a fool for trying to stop me. I will behead you and toss your body in the sea for the sharks to feast on.”

 

Graham seethes with anger, and when the captain is in front of him again, Graham throws as much force as he can, swinging his sword at the captain, but Blackbeard deflects his efforts with his cutlass. The duel begins and the swords flash, the sound of metal hitting metal resonating through the deck.

 

When Graham gets the opportunity, he raises his sword above his head and collects his energy, striking his opponent. Blackbeard is caught off guard and notices too late as Graham brings his sword down in a slashing motion, sending Blackbeard to his back with a loud thump. The captain loses his cutlass, the metal blade clattering against the wood of the ship, producing vibrations that sound through the deck.

 

Emma’s heart ignites with hope as she watches the scene unfold before her eyes, her hands still tied together.

 

Blackbeard crawls to his cutlass as Graham once again raises his sword to deliver a killing blow when Blackbeard throws blinding powder into Graham’s face. He cries out, frantically dropping his sword, attempting to wipe the dust from his eyes and stumbles backward, tripping and falling to his back.

 

Emma cries out and thrashes against the men holding her, her heart tightening. She may be angry with Graham, but she still cares for him. Forbye, he is her only hope of escaping at the moment, but fear is quickly casting a dark cloud over the optimism she had felt seconds ago.

 

Blackbeard rises with a victorious smirk and walks over to pick up his cutlass, pointing it at Graham’s adam’s apple as he breathes heavily, his eyes daring the Captain to end his life. “I could kill you, but instead I will let you go, for the wrath you will receive from the king when he finds out his precious princess is missing, will be far greater than what I will do to you.”

 

With that, Graham is escorted off the ship by the crew as he shouts, “I will get you back, princess, I promise!”

 

“You won’t be allowed the chance, my father will kill you when he finds out what you have done!” Emma yells out her fear to Graham as the crew forces her to move, leading her to the quarters where she will be staying for the journey. She is relieved the captain let Graham go, but she has a sick feeling in her gut at what her fate will be when the captain sells her at auction. Yet she chooses to hang on to the faith that her parents will find her and bring her home.

 

The men prepare to set sail and the ship cruises across the waters of the Mediterranean for the next six days. Emma continues to fight against the captain and his crew, but every time she grows violent, they grab her and force her to drink a goblet of water after adding something to it to make her slip into unconsciousness. But her hands are no longer tied by rope, and she is allowed a small measure of freedom on the upper deck as long as she does not make a fuss. So, for the remainder of the trip, she stays calm and decides to make the most of it, taking in the beautiful scenery of the different islands the captain points out to her, and enjoying the fresh air and being out on the open sea rather than the security of her parent's castle as a princess. It is what she has dreamed about for so long, apart from the brutal reality that she is now a slave.

 

~*~

 

Graham informs David that Emma had been attacked and captured by pirates and that he had fought against them trying to rescue her. Although Graham is quick to tell of Lady Maleficent’s involvement, he neglects to mention that his employment by the said villain is the reason why the captain had an opportunity to take her in the first place, for he needs David to trust him to get the princess back. Graham feels miserable about what has transpired and is determined to atone for it. He convinces the king to let him buy her back so David can stay and protect his wife and son in case Lady Maleficent decides to go after them as well.  

 

Not knowing exactly where Emma was taken, David disguises himself as a poor peasant and goes to a tavern in Misthaven to gather information from the seamen who port there. Gathering intel on where to find her, he has a ship prepared for Graham that will take him across the Mediterranean to the slave market where Emma will be auctioned off. Determined to rescue his beloved daughter, King David will pay anything to buy her back and bring her home, but he knows there is not enough time, and based on the information he’d received from the tavern, the slave markets only accept cash. This worries him deeply, but he hopes the gold he gives Graham is enough.

 

Back at a tavern in the Dark Kingdom, Prince Baelfire overhears some pirates speaking of a green-eyed, golden-haired princess being sold by Captain Blackbeard, who had spoken of his sale when he’d returned from the slave market. Baelfire doesn't catch a name, but she is rumored to be quite a rare beauty. He puts the pieces together, for King David had gone wild with rage at the news of his daughter’s disappearance, and goes to his father to spread the word. It matters not, though. God knows what the captain and his crew have done to the prince’s fiance; she has most likely been sullied and would be no good to him now. Rumplestiltskin tears up the contract and sets up a betrothal between his son and Lily once again, which pleases Lady Maleficent. Baelfire and Lily waste no time getting married.

 

~*~

 

The thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the leaf-littered dirt travels throughout the forest and comes to an abrupt halt when Killian sees a disturbance in the air and raises his hand to stop his men from moving any further. The screeching call of a falcon soaring across the sky is heard from a distance as Killian waits on high alert. James signals for the men to prepare themselves and they jump off their horses, pulling out their bows and arrows, forming a line of protection in front of the prince.

 

Killian can hear galloping horses in the distance, and gradually they come into view, along with men in capes riding towards them. The leader descends from his horse when he approaches, but is still a fair distance away, quickly kneeling and introducing himself as the chamberlain of the sultan as he presents a scroll to the prince. Killian senses something is off, for what could be so urgent that a carrier is being sent to him while he is away from the palace?

 

“I have brought news for my prince from the Grand Vizier, Geppetto.”

 

Killian jumps off his horse and approaches the man, taking the offered scroll, and stepping aside to read it. Scanning the letter from Geppetto, he learns of his Father's death which had ensued during a campaigning expedition when he had fallen ill. Brennan had died peacefully in his tent after his evening prayers.

 

Flooded with emotions—shock, sadness, fear, disquietude—Killian turns sharply, glancing at James who gives him a questioning look. With the expression on the prince’s face, he’s able to communicate with the falconer without words.

 

James’ expression clouds and he bows his head in respect, expressing his condolences for Killian’s loss.

 

A tear slides down Killian’s check. The prince had known this day would come, he just didn't know it would come so soon.

 

The capital is struck with grief at the news of Sultan Brennan’s death.

 

Brennan had been the youngest of his five half brothers and had rebelled against his father’s wishes when the eldest brother had been announced as the heir apparent. Outraged and determined to steal the throne, as Brennan had been made to believe he was his father’s favorite, he’d battled against his the sultan and ultimately dethroned him, sending him to a faraway land where he immediately met his death. Brennan then put his brothers and nephews to death to eliminate potential pretenders or threats, and his ruling over Neverland as sultan lasted eight years. Despite his shortened reign, Sultan Brennan was one of Neverland’s most successful and respected rulers to date. During his eight years of ruling, he had accomplished momentous success, including the expansion of Neverland by seventy percent.

 

Neverland, an empire where only men reign and hold absolute power, not to be controlled or ruled by women. The females of a sultan’s harem all enter as slaves, and if she is fortunate enough to birth a prince, she is traditionally never to return to the sultan’s bedchambers. Her sole purpose then is to care for, nurture and prepare the prince for the throne. But Brennan had been captivated by Kira. She had entered his harem as an Odalisque, a general servant, and had risen through the ranks of the harem hierarchy, enjoying her power and position as a bas-kadin when she became the mother of Brennan’s heir. After she’d given birth to a girl and then a boy, Brennan had sought her company once more, but when she became pregnant with Killian, Brennan had taken a gedikli to bed, a concubine whose status was far lower than Kira’s, subsequently fathering another prince.

 

The Sultan had a fierce temper and very high expectations of his three sons. And while Killian and Liam had acquired their father’s political skills, wisdom and looks—broad shoulders, high cheekbones, fair skin and sea blue eyes—their younger half brother took after Brennan’s fierce temper and determination to ascend the throne. But unlike his father, Declan had lost the battle, failing to kill off his brothers and was permanently exiled from Neverland. Liam and Killian, however, had a resilient bond, having the same father, which is rare within their culture. Neverland Sultans did not traditionally bed a woman after she’d bore him a son—in fact, it was a stark violation of the imperial harem principle—one concubine mother, one son—to prevent both the mother's influence over the Sultan and the feuds of the blood brothers for the throne. Killian would have gladly served under his brother, however, and the only reason Liam is not the one in Killian’s place is the battle that had mercilessly taken his life.

 

Killian returns to the Jewel of the Realm, the Sultan’s court where he had been sent as a young lad to study and learn the ways of his people. He had been appointed crown prince at age sixteen, and today ascends to take over the honorable legacy left by his father, Sultan Brennan, hoping he can live up to the expectations of his people—of his father. Killian hopes he can continue to be a man Brennan would be proud of.

 

 _Don't just be a man, my boy, be a great man,_ his father had always told him.

 

Upon Killian’s arrival, he greets his mother, the Valide Sultan, in her suite, pressing a kiss to the back of her delicate hand and asking to be in her prayers. He hopes he can live up to his father’s legacy and make his mother proud.

 

“May God bestow upon you, your throne and your crown longevity.”

 

Killian draws her into a hug, and when he pulls away he turns to his sister who bows and takes his hand kissing the back of it. “My lovely sister.” Killian smiles and urges her up to kiss her forehead. “Father will be greatly missed.”

 

“He will be,” Regina agrees with a small smile, unshed tears wetting her eyes as Killian wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Both his mother and sister have long, dark brown hair, the same color as Liam’s, and deep brown eyes that are now full of pride as they await the accession of the new Sultan.

 

“Now that Brennan is gone, you must be prepared to pass along his legacy, my son,” Kira says to him.

 

Killian sighs in exasperation, knowing exactly what her intentions are.

 

“You know not how much time you will have. Your father had eight years and God willing, you will have more, but we cannot know that for certain. You must find wives to bear you many princes, one who will take your place when you are gone.”

 

“Mother, I am aware…”

 

“Then why must you wait any longer? When is the last time you’ve lain with a woman who was not sterile?”

 

Killian’s eyes darken. The last time he had bedded a woman who was capable of birthing him a son and would’ve if not for her death while she was with child, it was Milah.

 

“Just as I suspected,” Kira sighs deeply. “I am sorry for what happened to Milah, but she is gone now, you must accept that and move on.”

 

Killian can’t hear this tale once more. He needs to leave before he grows furious and sad, and now is not the time, for he is about to be crowned Sultan. “Please, I cannot discuss this now,” he pleads with her.

 

Kira relents with a nod. “Very well.” She looks to the two odalisques in the room and calls them over. “I have a caftan prepared for you, my son.”

 

They kneel and bow their heads, one of them presenting a silk red brocade caftan, woven with gold thread and lined with black fur.

 

“Thank you, mother.” Killian accepts the caftan and leaves to prepare for the ceremony.

 

Kira calls upon the Jewel of the Realm’s Chief Eunuch who is charged with the protection and maintenance of the harem women.

 

“You summoned me, Sultana?”

 

Kira nods. “I want you to find my son four potential kadins, no matter the cost. They must be pure and untainted, never touched by another man. And only the most beautiful, with flawless skin that glows with good health. My son deserves only the best. They are to be trained and prepared by his twenty-fifth birthday. At that time, we will celebrate with pomp and ceremony and present the gediklis to him. Can I trust you with this task?”

 

“Yes, Sultana.” With that, Nemo Nautilus leaves Kira’s chambers and sets out on his search for four promising concubines, which he knows will not be difficult, for he knows the prince’s tastes quite well. Killian has always been fond of women who were not only beautiful but warm and intelligent, fierce, independent and a bit mysterious.

 

As he scours the slave markets, word of a beautiful golden-haired virgin, eyes the color of emerald jewels, being sold at the next full moon reaches him, and not only do those attributes intrigue him but also the rumor that she is a princess of high stature. He finds out exactly where she will be auctioned off and leaves immediately.

 

~*~

 

Emma is still in shock by the entire ordeal—by Graham’s betrayal, by being captured by pirates and sold to an auction house. She has been left unscathed but misses her family so much, it’s painful. Cursing herself for ever wishing she had a life beyond the castle, she still clings to the hope that her family will find her.

 

She has resided at an auction house since the voyage on Blackbeard's ship had ended, and over the last several weeks, she had been bathed in perfumed waters, bleached in lemon to restore her true, milky skin tone and massaged with sweet smelling creams to make her skin smooth and silky to the touch.

 

While she has been pampered, protected and kept from the sun, word has swept the Mediterranean of the virgin princess with golden hair who will be sold by a purveyor of the most valuable merchandise in the world. She has faith that the rumors have reached her parents and that her family will come and rescue her. She believes in them; it’s the only thing she can believe at the moment.

 

The slave merchant explains that there is an opening bid on her of ten thousand pieces of gold, and though there aren’t many, the buyers are only the most powerful and richest men from around the world. Emma's heart flutters with panic and her stomach feels as though it’s filled with snakes slithering around her insides.

 

Pulling back the curtain, her kohl-framed emerald eyes sparkle under her elongated lashes as she peeks into the private auction room. Upon witnessing the company she has drawn Emma gasps through the thin veil draped around her face. There is another veil covering her hair and she’s wearing a delicate, champagne colored, ankle length gown which is held together by green ribbons, one tied around her waist and one at each shoulder.

 

On the other side of the curtain, there are fifteen buyers, and among them is Graham. Emma clenches her fists in anger when she spots him. All she sees is a fraud who had everyone in the Royal Castle fooled; he had her parents thinking he was truly looking out for Emma's best interest, but instead, he had been employed by another to do the exact opposite. She is torn between Graham's betrayal and the small spark of hope that he will buy her back. But all she cares about at the moment is getting back to her family, and she has a feeling Graham won’t be able to make that happen.

 

“Come, my lady. It is time.” Pulling Emma from her thoughts, a eunuch gently touches her arm and draws her out onto the center of a platform in the middle of the room.

 

All eyes are eagerly drawn to her.

 

The slave merchant announces her as, “a virgin princess, pure and nubile,” and removes the veil from her face, starting the bid at ten thousand gold pieces.

 

The bidding is so fast, it dizzies her as several men go back and forth, raising the bid higher and higher. But none of the bids are high enough for the merchant, so he has the eunuch loosen the ribbons at her shoulders, and the top half of the tunic falls to her waist.

 

Emma loses a breath, and Graham turns his head to avert his eyes, unable to watch, his fists tightening in anger. The room buzzes with excitement, many pairs of eyes drinking in her half-naked form, her high, fully blossomed breasts and rosy pink nipples on display. Some of the men look at her the way Baelfire had, with hungry, lustful eyes and a chilling grin, making her stomach churn.

 

Per the signal from the merchant, the eunuch removes the veil from her head and pulls out the pearl clasp from Emma’s hair, letting her golden locks cascade over her shoulders and down her back like a fan. Then he loosens the belt, allowing the entire fabric to fall to the floor, pooling around her feet, at which point silence fills the room as the men greedily feast their eyes upon her.

 

The princess goes numb with mortification as she stands stark naked from head to toe, her heart thumping in her ear. No man has ever seen her unclothed, and now here she stands for all the bidders to see. Some of them are licking their lips as their eyes scan her bare flesh, sending chills down her spine, and her entire body shakes. Her skin is flushed red with shame, her breaths shallow, but she chooses not to show her fear, as her parents have taught her. With the faith that Graham will outbid the other buyers, she stands tall and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and does her best to mute out the shouts of the bidders as they continue to raise the price.

 

“Thirty thousand!”

 

“Thirty-five thousand!”

 

“Forty thousand,” the voice of Graham causes her to look over at him, and as ashamed as she is, standing there baring everything, her eyes plead with him.

 

“Forty-three thousand!” is the comeback from another, and Graham goes back and forth with him until the other bidder is defeated.

 

“Forty-five thousand!” Graham calls out.

 

“Forty-five thousand! Who will bid more?” Silence falls over the room, and Emma breathes a sigh of relief.

 

The gavel is raised to finalize the sale when a voice calls out, “The Sultan of Neverland bids fifty thousand gold pieces.” A tall man makes his way to the platform. “I am Nemo Nautilus, Chief Eunuch.” He drops the sack of coins at the merchant's feet. “You may count it.”  

 

“No need,” the delighted merchant states, accepting the gold as the chief eunuch covers Emma with a robe.

 

Graham leaps on stage and protests. “You raised the gavel to finalize the sale. She is mine!”

 

“But I did not knock with it. You are permitted to make a higher bid.”

 

Nemo raises his hand, signaling Graham to do so, but judging by the look in Graham’s eyes, he does not have enough to outbid Nemo.

 

Graham turns to the other buyers with pleading eyes. “Please lend me your gold and I will make sure you are rewarded with double by the king of Misthaven!” he attempts, but no one bothers to speak out against the Sultan of Neverland's Chief Eunuch. “This auction is illegal! She is betrothed to the heir of King Rumplestiltskin and the papers have been signed. She is as good as married!”

 

Nemo scoffs. “Your laws do not apply to us, just as our laws do not apply to you. You can either raise my bid or allow me to leave with my purchase.”

 

Graham has nothing more to offer, so Nemo retrieves Emma’s belongings—her clothes and necklace—from the merchant and turns to Emma, who fiercely snatches the items from his hands.

 

“Come, my lady,” Nemo says kindly. “We must go, now.”

 

Graham looks at Emma, his eyes full of sorrow and regret. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as Nemo gently takes her elbow, ushering her in the direction he is heading.

 

“Do not touch me!” she shouts angrily, her body once again overwhelmed with fear as she squirms against the Eunuch's hold.

 

Graham follows after her, calling out, “I shall go to Neverland with your father, and he will ransom you!”

 

“Do not lie to the girl. She is my Master’s now. She cannot be ransomed,” Nemo tells him.

 

She looks back at Graham, her eyes red and swollen as the distance between them gradually increases. “Tell my family I will come back to Misthaven! I will see them again!”

 

Graham nods, tears falling down his cheeks as he watches the princess being hauled away from him. How is he ever going to face her parents and break the news of his failures to them, let alone his betrayal?

 


	4. Chapter 3

“Let me go, you spineless pigs!” screams a woman with fiery red, curly hair and a temper to match. She's forced to sit on the wooden floor below deck, her hands bound in front of her by rope, eyes full of fury as the two turbaned guards show her their scimitars in case she decides to grow violent again. There are two other women sitting to the right of her; both have been docile, but no less frightened, and therefore their hands are not tied.

 

“These will be your companions for the trip to Neverland, and they will also be your roommates at the palace, so I suggest you become acquainted,” Nemo tells Emma before leaving them to chat among themselves.

 

One of the females is very tall with a long, slender body, shimmering blue eyes and silvery blonde hair that's pulled into a lengthy braid laying over her shoulder as her arms are around a younger girl, who looks very frightened. She is curled up against the silvery blonde, her cheeks stained with tears as she rests her head on the other girl's shoulder. She has auburn hair and wears a braid on each side, her eyes are a light hazel color and she is at least a few years younger than the silvery blonde. _Perhaps they are sisters?_ Emma thinks as she sits between the younger girl and the redhead.

 

“I am Elsa.” The silvery blonde removes her hand from the other girl’s face and sticks it out to Emma.

 

“Emma,” she murmurs softly, shaking Elsa's hand.

 

“This is my sister, Anna.”

 

Anna looks over at Emma and sits up a little, also shaking her hand.

 

“It’s nice to meet you both, although I am sorry it’s under these circumstances.” She turns and looks to the other girl, who is now curled up into a ball, shocked to silence. “What’s your name?”

 

The redhead is slow to look at her, but eventually, she regards Emma with a permanent frown on her tear stained face. “The name is Merida. I am a princess,” she grumbles, her bottom lip trembling. “I am not supposed to be here.”

 

“I know what you mean, I am a princess as well,” Emma says; she’s just as angry and sad as Merida, but unlike her, Emma is able to subdue her emotions.

 

“So, we are all princesses, is that why they took us?” Elsa asks no one in particular.

 

Emma is not surprised as she turns her head to look at her.

 

Elsa is staring vacantly at nothing in particular, distracted by her thoughts. “I was supposed to be the queen of Arendelle, and Anna was supposed to be married, but the Lost Boys invaded our kingdom and raided the cathedral during the wedding. They killed our parents and took us away.”

 

Emma’s heart goes out to them. At least her family still lives; these two women are now orphans, even if they were to make it back home. “My deepest condolences to both of you.” She turns back to Merida. “What about you? How were you captured?”

 

“I was betrothed to a man I didn’t want to marry.” Merida goes on to tell a long tale about how she was betrothed to one of her father’s allies and how she ran off into the woods where she was captured and imprisoned by an enemy of her father’s and then sold at an auction house.

 

“What about you, Emma?” Elsa asks her curiously. “How did you get here?”

 

Emma closes her eyes, trying to find the courage to tell her story, but in hindsight she should feel better than she does, knowing her family is still alive, unlike Elsa and her sister. “I was betrayed by one of my own men,” she finally says, opening her eyes. “He was a bodyguard charged to protect me and instead…” her voice cracks as she wills herself to continue, “instead he was an imposter who was hired by an evil countess to murder me.” A tear slips from Emma’s eye when the words leave her mouth.

 

“This man… did you love him?” Elsa asks, and the words make Emma's heart hurt.

 

She nods. “I loved him as a friend. I cared for him, and I thought he had felt the same about me.”

 

“But he didn’t kill you. Perhaps he did love you and that is why he sent you away instead of murdering you?”

 

“It matters not. He betrayed my trust. He lied to me, and now I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for ever leaving my heart unguarded.”

 

Anna offers a small smile and takes Emma’s hand. “I can empathize your fear, believe me, but you should not let one man prevent you from trusting again. We are going to a terrible place where women kill for their master’s affections, but if we stick together and trust each other we can make it a more bearable and peaceful place.”

 

Emma appreciates this young woman's optimism—Anna sounds much like Emma’s father, full of hope—but she’s reluctant. She doesn’t see this palace in Neverland as a place she will ever enjoy residing, no matter the company. “But if we submit ourselves to these Neverland pigs and comply with them and their customs, then don’t they win?”

 

“Maybe so, but if we let the palace turn us against each other, then nothing good can come of it. We will show them they cannot break our spirits.”

 

Emma nods, but she’s still pessimistic. The worst thing she can imagine is to submit to the Sultan, because what kind of man buys women like cattle just so he can have his pleasure when he demands and gain an heir out of it? He does not sound like a man at all. Only the scum of the earth and she will never give herself willingly to him.

 

The four women ascend to the upper deck to watch as the ship pulls away from the harbor, and while the others gaze out over the open sea, Emma looks in the opposite direction, watching as her father’s ship from Misthaven becomes further and further away. A tear slides down her cheek as the hope of seeing her family again is washed up with waves of the sea.

 

As the ship approaches Neverland, Nemo explains what’s expected of them. They must behave themselves and listen to their supervisor, Mother Superior. She is essentially a paid odalisque instead of a slave and oversees the women of the harem.

 

When they arrive at the palace, they are forced to line up in the harem courtyard.

 

“Stand in line, chins up, ladies.” A petite, dark-haired woman commands, whom Emma quickly learns is Mother Superior, and although her words carry a demanding tone, she seems kind.

 

“See? It’s not so bad,” Elsa whispers to Emma as she stands next to her.

 

“We have seen nothing yet,” Emma grumbles, a scowl on her face.

 

The harem servants and eunuchs bow their heads when a woman enters the courtyard. Emma gets a look at her before bowing her head. Judging by her elaborate clothing—a dark, velvet gown with a pointed collar that stands upright on the back of her neck and opens in the front, and a crown set atop her head with ruby jewels—she is very powerful and wealthy, perhaps the Valide Sultan Nemo had mentioned. The woman walks up to each new concubine and gently lifts her chin, studying her features carefully.

 

“You have done very well, Nemo. These women appear to be exquisite and lovely, just as I had asked.”

 

“Thank you, Sultana. They are indeed.”

 

“Take them to the baths and have the physician examine them,” she commands the eunuchs and starts to leave as they grab each of the four arrivals.

 

Emma becomes enraged when they put their hands on her. “Do not touch me!” she shouts, struggling against them.

 

This gains the Sultana’s attention and she whirls around, glaring at Emma. “You will do as you are told. You are Sultan Killian’s property now, and if you do not bow your head and obey, you will be punished.” She looks to the eunuchs holding her. “Take her away.”

 

“I am nobody’s property! I will never submit to him!” Emma shouts as she is hauled from the courtyard along with the other three girls.

 

The bathing area is constructed of grey-veined marble walls and a domed ceiling with high windows, allowing light to filter through. Here, the four women are stripped of their clothes and given a towel and a pair of pattens to wear on their feet while forced to endure a physical examination to make sure they are physically fit and presentable to the Sultan. The physicians check their eyes, inside their mouths and ears, examine their breasts and have them sit back, opening their legs to prod around their lady parts.

 

It is the most degrading experience Emma has ever endured. Being ripped from her home, sold and hauled off to some barbaric empire ruled by men and forced to stay docile while being examined like cattle. Then the concubines are meant to serve their master and breed if they are lucky enough. Never in Emma’s life has she imagined being treated like this. She is a princess for heaven’s sake!

 

And yet she briefly wonders if this is not better than the life she would've had with Baelfire. It is a bittersweet alternate perhaps.

 

After the exams, the four gediklis move to an adjacent part of the bathing area, their pattens clip-clopping against the marble floor. There is a large fountain in the center of the room with water that has been heated in the massive boiler below, and the girls sit around it, scooping up the water in large copper basins and pouring it over their heads. Each of the four gediklis is attended by maids who scrub and bathe them before giving them manicures, pedicures and massages. One of Emma’s attendants is a slender, beautiful woman with long ebony hair and red lips, whom Emma learns has a very fitting name—Ruby.

 

~*~

 

The silvery moon illuminates the inky blackness of the sky, it's light spilling over the terrace as Killian sits with James on an outdoor couch drinking forbidden wine and soaking up the stars that sparkle and glitter over the sea.

 

The wound he'd sustained from his father's passing is still fresh, but if he's being honest with himself, Brennan was not a good man, or at least he hadn't left this world as one. He let power and wealth consume him, he let his position muffle his conscious. Killian swears to the gods above he will be better. He will be morally sound, demonstrate good ethics and wisdom, he will be kind and fair-minded, and not let his power and position change him into something unrecognizable when he looks in the mirror.

 

“You see, James, our dreams are slowly coming to life. After all the war, death and raids we have reached this night.”

 

James smiles and offers a nod. “The future will be a great one. You will be an excellent emperor, just as you have dreamt about.”

 

“We shall see.” Killian takes a drink from his goblet of wine and looks at his friend who appears to be in deep contemplation. Though James seems happy, forcing a smile whenever he deems necessary, Killian can sense there is much to be desired for his friend in the palace. And he is not to be blamed. “My first order of business as Sultan is to have three wishes granted from you.”

 

James looks at him compliantly and nods. “Of course.”

 

“My first wish is for you to build a family. It’s long overdue.”

 

“But, Your Majesty, I already have a family.”

 

Killian cocks a brow at James, an amused grin dancing across his face. “You have a family you haven't told me about?”

 

“No, I assure you, I do not,” James replies, his lips cracking into a small smile, “but you’ve once told me I was like a brother to you. Is that no longer true?”

 

Killian saddens at the question, wondering why James would doubt him. “Of course it’s true. Which is why I hope to see you marry and have children.”

 

James can see Killian is sincere with his words and nods softly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

“My next wish is for you to be the master of my privy chamber. I am appointing you concierge of the palace.”

 

James regards Killian with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. Even though he seems to be in shock, he manages to stand from the sofa, and kneels before the Sultan, kissing the skirt of Killian’s robe. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian chuckles, patting James on the shoulder. “I will inform Gepetto to let it be known after I ask him to keep the emperor seal and remain Grand Vizier of Neverland.”

 

James stands, bowing his head. “You have bestowed upon me a great honor. What is the third thing you wish for?”

 

Killian responds by nodding to the guards, and they move to the doors of the terrace which leads to his chambers.

 

James watches as they open the doors, a maiden emerging onto the terrace. She is beautiful, with long, ebony hair, white porcelain skin and ruby red lips. Killian stands and approaches her as she bows her head. When he’d first seen her he could not bear to look at her and had asked her to leave him, for she had reminded him too much of Milah. His heart was black and he was angry and sorrowful, building an iron cage around his heart. But now he can look at Ruby and appreciate her beauty from afar. “James, I would like you to accept one of my lovely maidens as a gift. Her name is Ruby.”

 

James is stunned in his spot. For a Sultan to present another man with one of the odalisques of his harem is an extremely huge honor.

 

“I can trust you will cherish and treat her with the utmost respect.”

 

James nods, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he is able to speak again. “My apologies, I am at a loss for words.”

 

“There is no need to say anything more. I only hope you will make one another happy.”

 

James approaches her and kisses the back of her hand. Her lips are pulled into a grin, showing off her pearly white teeth as she allows him to lead her from the terrace. He says a thank you to the sultan before disappearing to his chambers with Ruby.

 

Killian feels a sense of calmness knowing his friend will be happy with her, but he goes to his study, feeling the loneliness envelop him as he decides to play a game of chess against himself.

 

But when he moves the first white pawn, he is flooded with the memories of Milah and how she used to wrap her arms around him from behind when he had sat at his chess table or at his desk trying to work. She used to distract him, always craving his attention. A tear slides down his cheek and he stands up after making his opening move, deciding to call it a night.

 

Though his heart is slowly healing, he fears that without Milah, he will never be able to love again.

 

~*~

 

Mother Superior escorts the four women to their living quarters explaining the harem hierarchy of the palace.

 

“Odalisques are women of the court and are general servants assigned to the oda of a harem mistress. If they are considered extraordinarily beautiful, they are seen as potential concubines and are given the opportunity to prove themselves worthy enough through their training to become a concubine. You all have been chosen for a special purpose and are gediklis, maids-in-waiting. You have the privilege of being presented as gifts to the Sultan, per the request of the Valide Sultan.

 

“If you are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, to walk the Golden Road which leads to his bedroom, and are taken to his bed at least once, you will become an ikbal. If you are successful in satisfying the sultan, you are considered a gozde, meaning _favorite_.” As they walk through the harem courtyard, Mother Superior gestures to a balcony of the second level which overlooks the harem, and the gediklis follow her gaze. “This is the Apartment of The Favorites. Currently, there are none, but we are hoping to change that, which is where the four of you come in. Perhaps the Sultan will choose one of you or all of you if he pleases. If you make him happy, this will be where you'll stay.”

 

Emma cringes, having no desire to ever reside there.

 

Mother Superior moves along quickly, and the others break from their thoughts and follow behind. “An ikbal who gives the sultan a child, either a girl or a boy, is considered a kadin, which is equivalent to a wife. The sultan is only allowed four kadins at a time and will be moved to a larger apartment when she has the child.”

 

Emma looks over at the other three and they seem to feel as she does—a bit perplexed and overwhelmed by this lifestyle in the palace and everything their supervisor is explaining to them; it’s very different than where they are each from.

 

“The mother of the Sultan’s heir is a bas-kadin and she is the most powerful of the concubines. When the Sultan dies, his bas-kadin takes the title Valide Sultan and holds the most power of the harem and is the most powerful woman of the empire. The woman you saw earlier is Kira, the Valide Sultan, and you must obey her every command. If you do not, the consequences will be grave, but if you do, your experience in the palace will be a pleasant one. Any questions so far?” Mother Superior asks, turning around when they reach a red, sheer curtain dividing their sleeping quarters.

 

“How did you become a supervisor?” Elsa asks her curiously.

 

“I entered as an odalisque and was promoted to Kalfa,” she answers. “It is my duty to oversee each of you, keep you in line and make sure you learn as you are supposed to so that you can one day be summoned by the Sultan. Any more questions?”

 

“Yes,” Emma replies. “How does one escape this hell?”

 

The others giggle, but Mother Superior glares at her sternly, causing the gediklis to silence themselves. “The only escape is death. If you chose to die you may try to escape. Otherwise, you may stay here and learn our customs, our music, our dances and most importantly, how to please you master. You will have four months of intensive training and then you will be presented to Sultan Killian on his birthday.”

 

“What do we do in our free time? Are we allowed to leave our quarters?” Anna asks her.

 

“Yes, you may. Each one of you will be assigned a household task that must be performed daily, you will all be expected to learn embroidery, and you will have exercise periods and of course your studies. You are not prisoners here, your lives will be very fulfilled.”

 

Emma scoffs. “We are not allowed to leave the palace. That makes us prisoners.”

 

“You are not prisoners by the laws of the empire. You are the property of the Sultan and therefore you must live within the walls of the Jewel of the Realm. But you have a limited amount of freedom. Leaving the harem is forbidden, gossip is forbidden and men are forbidden.

 

“If men are forbidden, then what about Nemo and the other men in uniforms?”

 

“They are not men,” Mother superior answers.

 

The four women all look at one another, confused. “They certainly look like men to me,” Anna says.

 

“They are eunuchs who have been castrated, which makes them less than men.” Mother Superior makes a snipping motion with her index and middle finger.

 

The four gediklis giggle.

 

“I have one more question,” Emma says before Mother Superior leaves the room.

 

She turns around, lifting a brow. “Yes?”

 

“If only the most beautiful women are presented to the sultan, then why is Ruby not a Concubine?”

 

Mother Superior's eyes widen and she gently takes Emma's arm, pulling her on the other side of the curtain, away from prying ears. “You must not speak of such things. The Sultan has his reasons, and it is not your concern.”

 

Feigning embarrassment, Emma joins her hands in front of her, peering down at her feet. “My apologies, I was only trying to figure out this hierarchy of the harem, that is all. One can not gain further knowledge without asking the right questions.”

 

Mother Superior sighs defeatedly. “Very well, if you must know for further understanding, Ruby entered the old palace as Killian's bath maid when he was a prince, but upon seeing her, he demanded another attendant. He said she looked too much like Milah.”

 

“Who's Milah?”

 

“That is all I can say, my child, I have already said too much.” She starts to usher Emma back to her bed, but Emma pulls back.

 

“Was she a concubine?”

 

Mother Superior looks around to make sure there is no one listening. “You cannot speak of this to anyone, you must promise.”

 

Emma nods. “I promise.”

 

Mother Superior moves closer, speaking in almost a whisper. “She wasn't just any concubine, our prince at the time was in love with her. She was his gozde, his favorite, and supposed to be his kadin, as she was pregnant with his child.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“Her life was taken by a jealous concubine. Milah and her unborn child were poisoned with a medicine meant to cure anxiety. A lethal dose of it was sprinkled into her food by one of her maids after it was tested by the prince’s tasters and delivered to her apartment. Milah unknowingly consumed the poison before she went to sleep and it ruptured her heart.”

 

Emma’s mouth falls open slightly and fear consumes her. If that could happen to the Sultan’s favorite, then what could happen to her and the others when they are presented to him? “That’s awful.”

 

“You must not worry, my child. After the incident, Killian has established a strict policy that all kadins of his harem will never have the same attendant for very long to avoid forming a friendship that will eventually turn into partisanship. The maid who poisoned Milah was a very close friend of a former favorite, whose status became irrelevant when Milah entered the harem and quickly became the prince’s one and only. All of the maids in waiting were jealous when he only summoned Milah and no one else. So the ikbal rebelled and decided to take fate into her own hands.”

 

“That is a foolish policy,” Emma scoffs. “If friendships are avoided, will it not be easier for one to hate another and act out? Jealousy and hatred flourish in environments when there are no friendships, no understanding or empathy of one another. It is much easier to hate a stranger than a friend, is it not?”

 

“I suppose you are right, but it matters not. It is what the Sultan has decreed and therefore it cannot be changed. Now you must go to your bed and get your rest. A long day awaits you.” Mother Superior leaves the girls, closing the curtain behind her.

 

Emma seethes with anger as she returns to the others and changes into her nightgown. Women are murdering each other just so they can give their master an heir, and for what? So they can be tossed aside after the pregnancy while the Sultan moves on to the next maiden? It’s incredibly absurd!

 

“What did she say?” Elsa asks Emma as the silvery blonde takes a brush through her unbraided hair.

 

“Nothing, she only told me to behave and not make such foolish inquiries.” Emma shakes off Elsa’s question with a fib to avoid the temptation of divulging what Mother Superior had just told her. She looks between Elsa, Merida and Anna as they get ready for sleep, thinking of their earlier words on the ship. “I want the four of us to make a promise.”

 

“What kind of promise?” Anna asks as she and Merida pause from their tasks of preparing the bedding on their mattresses and walk over, the four of them gathering around.

 

“We shall make a promise right now to never let our new fate tear us apart. We shall promise to remain friends, no matter what happens,” Emma says, glancing between the three girls. “This way the Sultan will never be able to get in between us. Do all of you agree?”

 

They nod. “Of course.”

 

“Good,” Emma grins, knowing that she will not let this Sultan win, no matter what. She will not let him control her, nor her new friends. “Now let us get some sleep, ladies.”

 

Emma slips into bed, clutching onto the necklace Leo had given her, and she prays for her family, hoping they are well. Her parents are undoubtedly stricken with grief at the loss of their daughter, but she knows her brother is strong enough to help them through it.

 

~*~

 

“Where are you going?” James pouts as Ruby slips out of bed and starts dressing.

 

She smiles, her cheeks still flushed with a lovely shade of pink as she leans over and kisses his lips. “I have a very early day tomorrow. I have been assigned a new gedikli and must attend to her before her training. Nemo has brought four gifts for the sultan to be presented for his birthday.”

 

“Ah, I see.”

 

“And you might be interested to know she’s from Misthaven.”

 

James lifts a brow and sits up, his interest highly peaked indeed. “From Misthaven?”

 

“Yes, a princess. Her name is Emma. Perhaps you know her?”

 

James shakes his head. “Unlikely. As young as the maidens typically are when they enter the harem, she would not have been born yet when I was taken. I was only eight”

 

“You are correct, she is quite young, not yet eighteen years old.” Fully dressed, Ruby starts to leave, heading for the door.

 

“Wait, can I see you again?”

 

Ruby turns around, her brilliant grin assenting. There's a twinkle in her eye as she offers a wink before prancing out the door without saying another word.

 

He will definitely see her again.

 

~*~

 

The next day, schooling begins and the gediklis are immersed with the knowledge of the traditions, history, manners and morals of the Neverland inhabitants. Emma is bright and a very quick learner, so it doesn’t take very much time for her to catch on. She also studies music, dance and the erotic arts. An important part of her role in the Harem is to please the Sultan, whom everyone says is her owner. Who is this man and why does he need to buy slave girls to get them to his bed? He must be old, fat and ugly, Emma conjectures.

 

The girls must also learn other languages, and while Emma is already fluent in several different tongues, the others are not, so she tutors them. And since she is not as good at dancing as Elsa and Anna are, she learns from them and studies hard so she can dance as well as them. Emma does everything she is told and learns all that she can so she can pretend to adapt while finding a way for her and her new friends to escape the palace.

 

In her free time, she decides to test the limits of where she can actually go. Mother Superior had told her the Golden Road is only for those concubines who are fortunate enough to be summoned by the Sultan, but she shall see about that. If she is to be a prisoner in the Jewel of the Realm, no one will tell her where she can or cannot go.

 

She sneaks off, leaving the harem and wandering through the palace, noticing there are no guards on duty. _So much for the palace being heavily guarded,_ Emma scoffs and continues down a vaulted road with plastered walls and stone pavement.

 

It’s not until she hears voices when she ducks into a nearby room. She isn't allowed the chance to shut the door before some guards pass by, so she hides behind it, leaving it cracked open. When she’s certain they’re gone, Emma looks around the room, taking in her surroundings. The walls are covered in rich textiles and hung with cabinet paintings, and there are many incunables and works of art. Among all of the personal belongings of which Emma assumes are the Sultan’s, her eyes are drawn to the middle of the room where there is a chess board table.

 

Her eyes light up as she makes her way over. All of the chess pieces are in their proper starting positions, apart from the white pawn which is placed in the center of the board as though someone had started to play but had been interrupted. This move not only claims control of the center, but it liberates White’s light-squared bishop as well as the White Queen. It is a smart move indeed. Emma bites her bottom lip and decides how to retaliate. While White gets the opening move, Black only gains the advantage after equalizing the position and eroding White’s opening position. With a carefully measured plan of where she shall go next, she makes a move that equalizes her position with the white.

 

“Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

 

Her head snaps up, her hand flying off the black pawn.

 

_Is that— No, it couldn't be. Or could it?_

 

Her eyes start to well up with tears, for the sound of _his_ voice is unmistakable. The same voice she has known since she was a baby. The voice that had once sang her sweet lullabies and filled her head with stories when she was a child. A big smile blossoms across her face, she's relieved her father has found her and will bring her home from this hell. Or is she only imagining this voice?

 

Her question is answered when she turns around. Or so she thinks.

 

~*~

 

James is still smiling after his night with Ruby when he sees the door to Killian's study cracked open and enters the room to investigate. There is a maiden with long golden hair at the chess table toying with the Sultan's game. She must be new in the palace if she thinks she can leave the harem and enter the Sultan's study.

 

“Excuse me, you are not allowed to be in here.”

 

She jumps, startled by his words and spins around. When he sees her face, his heart stops. She is one of the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon and her smile makes him melt. Who is she and why has he never seen her before? Has the Sultan taken her to his bed?

 

“Father?”

 

He stands frozen as she says the one word that could cool the lust he had felt from merely gazing upon her. “Father?” he parrots, furrowing his brows in confusion. His mind is reeling as he tries to determine whether or not she is expelling truths. Could he have a daughter he does not know about? She looks to be about seventeen or eighteen and he certainly was not a virgin that many years ago. “Wandering into the Sultan’s cabinet and mistaking me for someone else, you must be delusional. We must get you back to the harem before anyone finds out you are missing.” He strides over and gently grabs her arm, attempting to usher her out of the room when he sees behind her that she has retaliated to the opening move Killian had made earlier. He will be furious if he finds out. James can’t help but feel impressed though, for Emma is a clever one to have made that move.

 

~*~

 

Emma doesn't budge, too focused on the spitting image of her father. When he turns his head away from her, she notices the scar on his left cheek. A scar her father did not have. With his grip still on her arm, Emma lifts her hand, her thumb gently tracing the line of his scar. He shudders under her touch, and he places his hand over hers to stop her, his eyes full of pain as she reminds him of his past.

 

“Uncle James?” she murmurs, her eyes wide with shock.

 

“How do you know my name? And why do you refer to me as such?”

 

“You are my father’s brother. He… he thought you were dead. We all did.”

 

The man’s eyes widen as he studies Emma’s face. “You are… you are David’s daughter?”

 

Emma nods, a smile making its way across her lips. “I am.”

 

James draws out a breath and pulls her into a hug, much to her surprise. “I am relieved. For a second I thought I had a child I did not know about,” he laughs.

 

Emma sighs contentedly as she rests her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in the arms of the man who has all the same physical qualities as her father. “My apologies. I just… I was taken away from him, from my family and taken here.”

 

James pulls away, his features clouding with apology. “I am sorry...”

 

“It’s Emma.”

 

The name sounds familiar, and then he remembers Ruby mentioning her. “Ah, yes you are the princess from Misthaven.” James puts the pieces together when he recalls everything Ruby had told him. “Wait. David is king?”

 

Emma nods. “Yes, my father was adopted by King George and ascended the throne when he died.”

 

“Wait, you mean, I could’ve —I could’ve been a king?” he asks, anger lacing his words.

 

“Perhaps, but that is neither here nor there. You are alive and well and everything will be fine.” Emma's eyes light up in excitement. “We can both escape and go back to Misthaven.”

 

“I am sorry, Emma, but we cannot leave.”

 

Her features fall in confusion. “And why not?”

 

“Because you will be killed if you try and I will be killed for helping you escape. Even if we do succeed, the guards will come after us and we will be killed then. Besides, this is my home. I do not wish to leave.”

 

Emma is completely appalled and baffled by this. “But you are a slave, how can want to stay here?”

 

“I came to Neverland as one, but I am a slave no longer. I am the concierge of my Master’s palace. He is my friend, my family.”

 

“But you have a family… in Misthaven.”

 

“Who? A brother I have not seen in thirty years? Our parents are dead and I know nothing of David's life or yours, so how can I call Misthaven my home?”

 

“Because he still loves you no matter how much time has passed. And I have always wished I could’ve met you.”

 

“But I didn't even know you existed.”

 

“Well, you do now. We can be a family again,” Emma pleads with him, hoping she can change his mind. Surely life in Misthaven will be vastly better than his life here in Neverland as a servant to the Sultan.

 

“Emma, don't you understand, we can not leave this palace. This is your fate now, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.”

 

“But I will never be happy here,” she snaps, growing angry.

 

“You will, Emma. You were chosen for a special reason.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes in irritation. “I would hardly call birthing the Sultan’s prince so I can then be tossed aside while he takes another wife, a special reason.”

 

James doesn’t reply for a minute, perhaps he knows she is right. She can almost see the gears turning in his head. “What if I told you, I can help you change that?”

 

Her eyebrows furrow together, displaying her confusion.

 

“I can help you get in his good graces.”

 

She scoffs in amusement. “I do not wish to be in his good graces, and even if I did, I do not need your help.”

 

“I’m aware. I’m not saying you couldn’t woo the sultan on your own. I can tell you possess all of the qualities he will adore.”

 

“Then what is it you are trying to say, Uncle James?”

 

He raises a finger to his mouth, shushing her as he looks behind him and shuts the door. “Let me ask you something, were you David's heir?”

 

“I am second in line. My younger brother is first.”

 

“So, your brother will be king, and if you weren’t taken from Mistahaven, you would've been a spare to the throne?”

 

“I was to be queen of the Dark Kingdom,” Emma replies defensively. “I was betrothed to Rumplestiltskin's heir.” She tries to seem proud of her statement, but she knows she's not fooling him.

 

“And that is what you wanted?” he asks skeptically.

 

“Of course,” Emma huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

James raises a brow, not believing her.

 

“I would not feed you lies,” she claims while looking away from him to avoid eye contact. Even though she can’t see him, she can feel the heat of his stare burning her skin; she knows he isn’t buying her words. Not that it matters, for even if given the chance to return home, she would never again agree to a marriage with Baelfire.

 

Emma caves with a sigh. “No,” she mumbles quietly, reverting her gaze to James as she drops her arms to her sides. “The betrothal was forced; my fiance was a defiling swine.”

 

James nods gravely, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “Well, perhaps being queen of Misthaven or the Dark Kingdom was never your destiny, but what if you _are_ destined to be the queen of Neverland?”

 

Emma eyeballs him suspiciously. “But there is no such opportunity here.”

 

“You are right. There currently is not, but you can change that.”

 

Emma cocks a brow and crosses her arms again, itching to hear more. “Go on.”

 

“If you can bear the Sultan’s heir, you will become bas-kadin, but if you can continue to keep his favor and give birth to several princes, you will rule the empire. No other concubine will be able to touch you. Not even the Valide Sultan.”

 

Emma’s eyes widen, her mind reeling at the possibilities. If what he is blabbering about is feasible, she could be the ruler she's always dreamt of being and she can change the empire and their barbaric customs. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“And you will help me with that?”

 

“Who knows the Sultan more than I do?”

 

“I was not questioning your capabilities, I was questioning your willingness. What exactly would be in this for you?” she asks suspiciously.

 

James looks offended. “You are my niece, why must I need a reason?”

 

She studies him cautiously. “If this is a trick, I am in no mood. I have already been deceived and that is how I ended up here.”

 

“Emma, I have no reason to deceive you. In fact, I am risking my life by helping you. If people even find out you are my niece, I will be banished from the palace to avoid partisanship. The Sultan is the only one allowed to show favoritism toward any of his concubines.”

 

“I've gathered that much,” Emma rolls her eyes.

 

“Then you know how important it is that no one find out about this?”

 

She nods her compliance. Her friendship with James appears to be a promising one, and if all goes according to plan, it will only be a matter of time before she turns the tables and makes the Sultan hers. She will make him bow at her feet and submit to her every whim.

 

With this knowledge, she leaves the room and returns to the harem with a devious smile on her face.

 

Yes, she will make Sultan Killian her slave, and soon all of Neverland will be hers.

 

~*~

 

Later that day, Killian and James return from the Audience Chamber where Killian had conducted interviews with his army officers of high rank, learning that his father had left behind a large navy before he had passed. His mind is reeling with the decisions he will make at his first council meeting the next day as he goes to his study to continue the chess game he had started. He enters the room, James following behind him, and approaches the chess board, stopping abruptly when he sees the black pawn has been moved. He frowns, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

 

Perhaps James had seen the game Killian had started to play and decided to act as his opponent, although James would never open with this move. It is a risky one as opposed to something simple and safe—the exact opposite of how his concierge always played his hand.

 

Someone else must have done it.  

 

“Who has been in my room?”

 

He turns to look at James who shrugs as he stands next to Killian and examines the chess table. “I’m not sure, Your Majesty. But whoever this person is, has certainly proved themselves to be clever because they have already equaled your position.” James laughs, but Killian is not amused. Instead, he looks angered.

 

“You are responsible for all that takes place in the palace, I want you to find out who is entering my private room without my permission.”

 

“And what shall their punishment be?”

 

“Just bring them to me.”

 

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

 

James begins to move about the room as Killian continues to consider the intriguing and daring move of his mystery opponent. Pursing his lips in careful contemplation, he makes his next move on the chess board.

 

Part of him wants to punish whoever is wandering into his study without his permission, but another part of him is curious as to how this person who dare challenge him would retaliate if given the chance.

 

He looks up at James and fingers the chess piece, “On second thought, tell the guards if they see someone enter again, they are to let them in.”

 

James turns to face Killian with an odd look on his face. “Even if this person is one of the harem women?”

 

Killian raises an eyebrow at James and asks sharply, “Do you think it is?”

 

James affects an air of blase indifference, answering Killian’s hard question with a shrug, “Perhaps a maiden who is new to the palace? No one else would be so daring.”

 

Killian reflects on his friend’s words for a moment. Is it possible a woman from his harem is disobeying the rules and sneaking into his room to play chess? The thought entices him more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

 

“Well then, if it’s a game she wishes to play, I will show her how to win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They haven't met yet, but they will in the next chapter. Their meeting should be very interesting ;-)


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian finally meet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, I am so excited to present you with this chapter. I’ve tweaked and changed this chapter so many times, I am finally happy with it, and I have @gingerchangeling to thank for her wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with her wonderful editing skills. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!
> 
> And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!
> 
> TW: For anyone who may be triggered by this, there is a brief mention of sterile women which I have mentioned before, but I wanted to clarify something since it's been brought up. Killian does not force any woman to become sterile, he only asks sterile women to his bed or no one at all. He doesn't trick them into drinking the potion which makes them sterile or anything like that. This will be be brought up and explained in detail later on, but of course this will change once he is ready to have a wife and child again. And please remember this is a very different time and place. This story is based on 16th century Ottoman Empire where women were not treated the same as women of the western world. Killian lives in a very different world in this story and cannot be held to the same standards as Killian in modern world aus. With that said I've written him as a saint compared to other sultans of this era.

Killian heads to his study, hoping his opponent has responded to his move. He hates to admit it, but he's been looking forward to this all week. When his council meetings and other duties had finished, he'd vanished to his study to see if his opponent had made a move. So far, the black side has been untouched, so today he is hoping for a different outcome. Stepping inside his study, his anticipation is heightened when he shuts the door behind him. Surveying the middle of the room, his eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face when he sees one of the black pieces has been moved. As he’s about to take his turn, the door opens and he turns around, seeing James enter the room.

 

~*~

 

James has an imprudent grin on his face as his eyes move to the chessboard. “So your anonymous chess opponent has responded to your move?”

 

“Aye, and she is a brave lass, moving her bishop before the knight.”

 

“And you are sure you’re dealing with a she?”

 

“No, I can only hope.” Killian slides his queen, hoping to checkmate her king once she clears the path for him.

 

“Well whoever this person is, they are not the only one challenging Your Majesty.”

 

Killian glances at James sharply, his brow raised to his forehead. “Tell me what you mean.”

 

Letting out a sigh, James starts walking across the room, rounding the chessboard and picking up the white knight. The particular chess piece always reminds him of home. His eyes lift to the Sultan, who is staring at him expectantly. “Word has it, someone has been trivializing your partisan policy, in regards to forbidding friendships between the harem women, calling it foolish.”

 

Jerking his head from the chessboard, Killian gapes at his friend, eyes burning with fury. “They said what?”

 

“They said your policy is foolish,” James reiterates, trying to suppress a smirk.

 

“I don't believe this,” Killian huffs and starts pacing the room, his caftan swaying as he moves.

 

“Me neither,” James shakes his head, feigning an air of uneasiness. “I also couldn't believe it was one of them, to top it off,” he adds, trying his best to uphold an impassive demeanor. If Emma is to claim the Sultan's heart, he must know how challenging she can be. He must know the fire and passion in her heart; James has picked up on a few of her attributes in the very short time he's known her. Emma is everything Killian will love, he just doesn't know it yet, and if he is to pick her among the others so she can eventually become the mother of his prince, she needs to hold the upper hand before Killian meets her for the first time.

 

“Where did you hear this?” the Sultan demands angrily. He's clearly not happy, which James's perceives as a win. He wants Emma to get under Killian's skin, and James can see she is already succeeding.

 

James sets the knight down in its place and sighs wearily, slowly making his way back to the other side of the table. “The insolent woman prattled on to Mother Superior her first evening in the palace. She’d said if friendships are avoided, hatred and jealousy will most likely develop and cause the maidens to act out against one another.” As he speaks, his eyes are fixed on nothing in particular across the room before stealing a glance at the Sultan. It is clear Killian is considering Emma’s argument carefully, James knows that look in the Sultan's eyes far too well, although Killian tries to hide it with a scowl.

 

“Mother Superior let the outburst slip to Ruby, and Ruby informed me the other night before we... slept,” James admits, a light blush painting his cheeks. He had been delighted when Ruby had returned to his chambers, seeking his attention once again. Their first time together was certainly not enough for either of them. Casually leaning against the table to face the Sultan, he crosses his arms over his chest. “You didn't really think the women of your harem refrain from gossip, did you?”

 

“No, of course not,” Killian retorts defensively. “But why is this girl trying to test my patience?”

 

“She is no girl, I’ve been assured,” James says with a smirk, “in both her looks and behavior. According to Ruby she presents herself in a mature manner and is very clever. But, if you wish for me to deliver her punishment I would be more than happy to—” James attempts to say, knowing precisely how the Sultan will respond.

 

“No, there is no need.” Killian has a thoughtful look on his face as he runs his hand over his jaw. “Perhaps she has a point. Milah attracted many enemies, and I do not wish the same fate for anyone else. Friendships in the harem shall be permitted, but only if there are no rivalries. I cannot deal with any more scandal in the harem. Let it be known.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

~*~

 

With a frivolous smile plastered on her face, Emma escapes the harem while the others are busy with their daily tasks, and hurries off to the Sultan's study. She has to admit, she looks forward to their back and forth chess match. In fact, she probably enjoys it a touch too much. It's her only way of getting close to him without physically being in his presence. It's her way of letting him peer into her soul without having to look at him directly.

 

When she was younger, her mother used to tell her to never look a man in the eye, for he might form the wrong impression. Looking a man in the eye is a very powerful weapon any female holds, she can apprise him of her fears, her displeasures and more importantly her desires with merely a look. Any man who can look into a woman’s soul is able to either unlock her secrets or misinterpret them. So unless she desperately wants attention, she must never look him in the eye. Emma had always abided by this rule, especially when she’d been around Neal. He was certainly one person she never wanted to give a false impression to; it was atrocious enough she had agreed to the marriage arrangement. And since Emma has yet to come face to face with the Sultan, she uses the only thing she can as her way of exposing her secrets—chess.

 

Emma wasn't sure what to think when he had retaliated against her initial move.

 

_Scanning her surroundings to make certain no one is around, she warily enters the room. While she is determined to learn all she can during her studies, she is also determined to learn what there is to know about the Sultan. James is her best source of information, so she had agreed to meet him in the Sultan’s study. But when she sneaks into the room, he is nowhere to be seen. Her brow furrows in confusion because she was sure he’d told her this day and time, and she is late getting here because her lessons with the eunuchs had gone longer than expected._

 

_She’s also surprised to find the Sultan has responded to her move. So, he is open to a challenge? That’s a very good thing to know._

 

_Emma smirks as she swiftly moves to the chess board, her eyes twinkling when she sees the move he’s made. It’s very smart, he knows his way around the chessboard, Emma will admit, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve. Pursing her lips, she moves the black bishop, hoping to move in her queen during the next move and checkmate the pawn blocking his white bishop._

 

_She waits for James a while longer, and when he doesn't show, she leaves, worried he has set her up to get caught by the guards, but when she heads back, there are none to be seen. Emma thinks it’s very strange that leaving the harem is strongly forbidden, and yet there is no one stopping her from doing so._

 

_Perhaps it's some kind of trick. Maybe the Sultan is using the game to lure her in so he can trap her and steal her virtue. But how can he be so sure his opponent is one of his concubines? Perhaps James had told him so. She's still not sure whether to trust him or not._

 

_He is her uncle, yes, but she knows nothing of the kind of man he has become. He's certainly not like her father. David is kind and generous and loving. He would've risked his life to rescue a slave he did not know, especially one who turned out to be family. But Emma supposes the cards James has been dealt have made him hard. He was a slave and David was royalty, so it's not really just or fair to compare them when they have led very different lives. But still, the choices he makes are only his own. He clearly has some kind of power if the Sultan has made him concierge and he was gifted one of the harem women. Ruby had been gushing about her encounter with him to a few other servants, and Emma had gotten wind of it. The Harem is indeed not gossip free. In fact, the women love to gossip and they like to make light of the people in the palace._

 

Now that she's certain the Sultan is not out to trick her she shows up to his study once a week without fail.

 

“Emma, I’m sorry I was not true to my word.”

 

Her uncle's voice startles her as she stands before the chess table, and whirls around to see him entering the study. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that,” Emma breathes, holding her hand to her chest.

 

“I am sorry, my niece.” His features are clouded with apology as he moves toward her.

 

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “So, why did you back out?”

 

“I had only asked you to meet me here because the Sultan was intrigued when you started playing against him, and I wanted you to see that he had responded.”

 

Emma scowls at him. “Need I remind you of your promise—no tricks.”

 

James takes another step toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders, his words soft and gentle. “It’s not a trick, I assure you. Don’t you see you’re already under his skin? I told him why you disagreed with his policy about harem friendships and he decided to permit them. You have been here but a few weeks and he is already surrendering to your will.” James curls his lips into a smirk and removes his hands from her shoulder. “It turns out you don’t need my help after all.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him, choosing to breeze past the fact that she’d never claimed to have needed his help in the first place. “How did you know what I said about his policy?”

 

“Ruby told me.” James nervously runs a hand and through his hair. It reminds Emma of her father when her mother scolds him. “She heard it from Mother Superior, and Ruby and I are… well, we’ve been acquainted,” he admits, blush creeping into his cheeks.

 

“You have taken Ruby to bed, I already know,” Emma rolls her eyes, mildly amused at his sudden bashfulness, before she returns to the matter at hand. “You still have not told me why you are helping me. You say the Sultan is your family, and if that is true, then why are you plotting against him?”

 

He frowns at the accusation. “Please don’t misinterpret my intentions. I have no wish to plot against the Sultan. I am doing this for his own good. Let me ask you something… during your time in the palace, have you seen a small prince roaming around the halls?”

 

“No,” Emma replies, her face twisted in confusion. “I already know he doesn't have a son, or a daughter for that matter. It appears gossip in the Jewel of the Realm is not as unheard of as everyone says it is.”

 

James is not surprised by her knowledge; the gossip in the palace does seem to spread like wildfire. “So you know of Milah?”

 

Emma nods casually. She’s not supposed to know this, but she feels comfortable confiding in her uncle. Maybe it's because he reminds Emma so much of her father, she's not sure, but he makes her feel like she's home when she's with him.

 

“Well, do you also know the Sultan has only taken sterile concubines to his bed since her death?”

 

“No, I did not.” Emma’s eyes widen, panic rippling through her. “Then how am I supposed to bear him a prince?!” she demands impatiently. “The point of all of this is to give him an heir, is it not?”

 

“It is… but don’t you worry about that, I am taking care of it,” he promises in a soothing voice. “With you and the others his mother will present him, she will also demand he not ask any of you to become sterile. In the end, even his own mother cannot control his actions, but he will listen to me, just trust me.”

 

Arching a brow, she is still skeptical about his statement. “How will you convince him?”

 

He looks to be offended and presses his hand to his chest as though she has mortally wounded him. “How about a little faith in your uncle? Besides, if he does not take one look at you and realize you will make a perfect wife and mother, then he is foolish.”

 

Emma sighs dramatically; on one hand she is still hesitant about all of this, but on the other hand, she is thrilled by the challenge of making him fall so hard for her that he will never dream of making her sterile, and who is she to back down from a challenge? “Okay, I am trusting you, Uncle James,” she says before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Do not let me down.”

 

He offers up a grin. “I would never dream of it, my niece.”

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Emma and the Sultan play this game back and forth, and each time he surprises her, each time progressively moving toward a distinct path, taking her pieces one by one as she does the same to him. With every piece each of them takes of the other’s, it’s a piece they are taking of each other's heart, and the closer they get to winning, the closer they get to one another. Emma had no idea one could fall in love with someone over an anonymous chess game, but she enjoys their little game of back and forth, she enjoys it so much, enjoys how he always responds and counteracts her every move, the walls around her heart are slowly crumbling. It's like foreplay before the grand event, and her skin tingles with anticipation of said event.

 

She only wishes she could confide in her friends, but she cannot risk anything that may block her path and ruin her plans. It may only be a matter of time before the others are hoping the Sultan will choose them. While they have agreed to an alliance, always spending time together, they appear to be slowly adapting to the palace like Emma is. It is easiest for Elsa who is accustomed to the cloistered life as the future queen of Arendelle, her parents always wanting to protect her from the outside world. For Emma, it may have been the hardest if not for her plans of becoming the Sultan’s wife, for Misthaven women enjoy their freedom and independence. Emma chafes at her restrictions, her new life consisting of her oda, the baths and the gardens; she longs to go horseback riding with her brother and enjoy the wind in her hair, but she is sensible enough to know she may never again get the chance.

 

Yet she is able to get through the day with the hope and determination that one day she will rule the palace and allow her friends to go home.

 

_~*~_

 

Killian has made another move on the chessboard, still baffled by her progress so far as he makes his way toward the corridor; she had once again deftly maneuvered out of a trap he'd hoped to set for her. Before he can leave his study, however, the door opens. He panics, his eyes frantically searching for a hiding spot, and moves quickly behind a desk, his heart racing. Suddenly, he wonders why he is hiding in his own study, but the thought escapes him when he peeks his head around the corner of his desk and sees a woman sitting at his chess table, facing away from him towards the door.

 

It's his opponent. And his suspicions were correct. She's from the women's quarters.

 

He can't see much, the room is dim; the early evening light spilling through the window is the only source of light—but he can see long golden curls resting against the back of her cloak.

 

He breathes slowly, watching in fascination, even though he can't actually see what she's doing. Before he knows it, she's leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Killian lets out a long breath and stands up, walking over to the chessboard. He frowns upon seeing she is getting dangerously close to winning the game. Killian picks up one of the many white pieces she has taken from him and holds it up, toying with it. Every time he comes back to the chess board, he tries to anticipate her next move, but every time she surprises him and makes the opposite play, proving herself to be very unpredictable. And here he was so confident he would easily claim his victory over the game with his anonymous opponent, but it appears she has turned the tables on him.

 

Perhaps he was wrong about her.

 

The next day, the sun is blazing brightly as Killian walks out to his garden, watering the various flowers he had planted at the cusp of spring. He has gardeners to do this, but tending to his own private garden is one of the pastimes he has enjoyed since he was a young lad. He remembers fondly when he and Liam would sneak from their quarters to play in the Sultan's garden, whom in those times was their grandfather. Killian enjoys the peaceful serenity of being out in the garden, he enjoys the smell of the air and how he can always find some calmness when he is focusing his talents on something other than his duties of the empire. By practicing the craft of gardening, he is able to express his appreciation of beauty through art and nature in order to learn patience, deciphering the worthy and worthless at first glance as his eyes are dazzled with the light he sees, forgetting about the darkness in his world, however briefly.

 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

 

The voice of his concierge tows Killian from his thoughts, and he turns around to look at James, who’s wearing a cheerful smile. “Ah, my friend, you always have impeccable timing,” Killian chuckles.

 

“My apologies,” James’ words are laced with apology, his features falling flat. “I did not mean to disturb you, I will leave you to your thoughts.”

 

“No, please, tell me what have you come to me for.” He stands up, wiping the sweat from his brow, and they start walking a path through the garden.

 

James appears to be carefully calculating what he wants to say, his expression etched with concern.

 

“Since when are you hesitant, James? Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

 

James takes a long breath before finally speaking again. “Your majesty, you have wished for me to start a family, and now I would like to wish the same for you. I want you to find a suitable wife to bear your prince.”

 

“You are beginning to sound like my mother,” Killian scoffs at James, rolling his eyes.

 

“Is she wrong in wanting her son to build a family and secure his throne?”

 

“Of course not, but she does not comprehend what is holding me back.”

 

“Your Majesty, we all know you loved Milah very much, we are not clueless. But the love you felt for her, the passion, the longing… if you could feel that way for someone again, if you were given the chance to be happy again, would you not take it? Would you not hold onto it fiercely and protect it with your life?”

 

Killian regards his concierge with a thoughtful stare. Could he be right? What if Killian lets the ache he feels completely consume his life and ruin anything he could possibly have in the future? He hopes the gods will not allow it. “I would, of course…” His expression grows solemn, for how can he possibly find someone who can compete with his Milah? “But one does not simply change his heart with a snap of his fingers. Like a flower which requires time and a gardener to plant the seed, tend to it and nurture it, making sure it gets the proper amount of water and sunlight so the seed can blossom into a beautiful flower, a broken heart takes the same amount of care and patience.”

 

James gives a soft nod. “You speak wisely, Your Majesty,” he says, placing a hand on the Sultan’s shoulder, “but to plant the seed, one first has to carry the desire to plant it, do they not? In order to allow yourself to love again, you must first lower those walls of yours and open your heart. If you don’t, I fear you may continue the same lonely path.”

 

With those words said, James walks back towards the palace, leaving Killian to reflect on their discussion. The Sultan knows he is right, but little does James know, the mysterious woman of his harem is already chipping away at his heart. He knows not of what she looks like yet, only that she has hair the color of the sunshine that beams across the sky, but he cannot wait any longer to meet her, and he fears the time leading up to his birthday is too long. But he will wait. The gods willing, he will wait.

 

~*~

 

There is one more month until the Sultan’s birthday. Emma’s friends had helped celebrate her own birthday a few days ago when she’d turned eighteen. They had asked permission from Mother Superior to allow them to hold a celebration in the courtyard where they had gathered around with the other concubines and had wine and sweet desserts. Little did they know, Emma had also been secretly celebrating (with a subtle smirk) the fact that she was not marrying Baelfire that day (or ever) like she was originally supposed to.

 

Emma enjoys the time she spends with Elsa, Anna and Merida, but she always enjoys going off on her own to explore the palace. She has already made her next move on the Sultan’s chess board and has taken many of his pieces that were in her path. In fact, she’s winning and thinks that might be a reason why he hasn’t retaliated yet. It’s been longer than usual, but perhaps he is admitting defeat. Emma smirks at the thought.

 

While she is exploring the grounds of the palace one day, in a long-sleeved cloak made of mauve silk, she hears the babbling of a nearby brook and follows the sound, spotting a spring in a beautiful garden that reminds her of her mother's. An artificial waterfall cascades through the rocks, pouring into a clear, sandy bottom pool, the surface dappled with the afternoon sunlight. The water entices her; it's unbearably hot and she can't remember the last time she’s bathed alone. In the harem, she has to share the bathing area with many other women, so the thought of bathing by herself excites her more than it probably should.

 

Stripping her clothes and leaving them where they lay at her feet, she dips a slender foot, feeling how refreshingly cool the water is. She wades into the pool, and in a matter of seconds, she is swimming around, enjoying the water and sunlight trickling through the trees. It's the closest she's been to heaven in months.

 

~*~

 

Killian is heading back from a council meeting to his quarters, thinking about the pending chess game with the anonymous concubine in his harem. He wants to continue the game, but he’s not sure how to yet, without letting her win. She has outsmarted him, the little minx. But he’ll be damned if he allows her to catch on to this fact, so he bides his time, carefully considering his next move.

 

The sound of splashing water grabs his attention, pulling him from his reverie as he walks by one of the gardens. Crossing the threshold and following the sound, which leads him to a pool, he is stunned by the most glorious sight he's ever seen. There's a naked, golden-haired goddess swimming in his pool, and he quietly walks over to the bank to get a better look.

 

_Bloody hell._

 

Killian has seen many a woman naked, but no one is a close comparison. She has not only a stunning body but a lovely face to rival her form. She looks radiant when the sunlight hits the droplets on her skin as she stands under the waterfall to wash her hair.

 

His heartbeat quickens when the water spills over her perfect breasts, her skin shimmering as the sunlight drapes over her body. Her eyes are closed, so she's unable to see him, but even if he were spotted he doesn't think he can move from his spot if he tried. He’s not even aware of how aroused she makes him until his breeches become tight around his hard, straining manhood.

 

As she swims towards him, her slim figure gliding smoothly through the water, she reminds him of a swan, elegant and graceful. Then, she opens her eyelids, revealing the most stunning emerald green irises he’s ever seen, small flecks of gold dancing in her eyes. She makes eye contact with him, and his heart starts racing. It’s not until that point, until she is standing still in the water, a look of horror written on her face, when he realizes she has caught him staring.

 

~*~

 

Emma starts swimming towards the bank when she looks up and sees a man standing over the pool. Her eyes almost burst from their sockets. She stops suddenly, planting her feet on the bottom of the pool, and she's almost shoulders deep, her hands flying across her chest to cover her breasts. Her body freezes with shock as two words come to mind when she gets a good look at him—Greek God.

 

He is easily the most gorgeous man she's ever laid eyes upon. Dark hair, trimmed stubble framing his perfectly chiseled jaw and stunning blue eyes that rival the beauty of the sea. Who is he and why is here? The Sultan will be furious when he finds out another man has laid eyes upon one of his concubines. Emma grows angry when he continues to stand there with his mouth gaping open like he’s an adolescent boy seeing a naked woman for the first time. The way he looks at her makes her shiver, it makes her heart stutter underneath her rib cage and makes her skin flush.

 

“Please leave, I am the Sultan’s,” she says quickly, and bows her head, not wanting to tempt this man, whoever he is. Yet, she fears her voice has betrayed her. She sounds weak, mirroring someone who is enraptured by what she sees, which she is certainly not.

 

Deep laughter booms from his throat. “Well, if what you say is true, then I need not leave.”

 

It's disturbing how the statement alone flips her world upside down. For two reasons.

 

First of all, based on Emma’s experience, a voice should stop at the ears, but the smooth timbre of this man's voice is deep and smooth, penetrating past her ears and reverberating straight to her belly.

 

And secondly? Well, she has never imagined Sultan Killian to be so young, so well built, so dangerously attractive. Being his wife may not prove to be a terrible idea after all. Or will it?

 

Emma lifts her head, mouth hanging open and eyes wide with shock. “You are…” she stammers, suddenly incapable of forming actual words, let alone complete sentences.

 

“Sultan Killian at your service, my lady,” he says with a charming grin and a playful curtsy.

 

She bows her head again. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I am also sorry you have found me here instead of the harem. I was bored with my studies and tedious routine, so I was exploring the palace grounds. When I saw the pool, I could not resist the temptation to bathe and cool off in this sweltering heat.”

 

She is expecting his cheerful expression to morph into a scowl at her disobedience, she is expecting him to have her beaten, but instead, he offers up a facetious smirk. “Please, do not let me stop you, love. I was only hoping to join you.”

 

Emma's mouth opens as she looks up at him in shock, trying to form words. “You want to… you are not… you are not angered?”

 

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “I should be, but after watching you bathe, I am in no condition to be mad at you,” he says, casually gesturing down at himself.

 

Emma's cheeks heat up with blush, for though she is a virgin she has been studying erotic arts and recognizes what he’s referring to. The Sultan has an erection. She is not sure why, but her body grows warmer, her core heating up at the thought.

 

“What is your name, my little swan?”

 

“Emma, Your Majesty.”

 

“Ah, Emma, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. May I join you, Emma?”

 

She is surprised he’s asking for her permission, and even more so when he doesn't move from his spot, awaiting her answer. “You may, Your Majesty.”

 

He wastes not a second, removing his boots and peeling off his clothes. As Emma watches him, she forgets how to breathe. She has never seen a man unclothed before, and he is certainly a sight to behold. He is tall and lean with a flat torso and powerful thighs, the muscles in his arms and legs rippling as he moves. His skin is bronzed by the sun and his chest is broad with a dark patch of hair, a thin trail of it leading her eyes to his swollen manhood. Emma gulps, warmth spreading between her thighs as her nipples peak just below the surface of the water. He is long and thick, his cock throbbing ever so gently as he walks to the pool's edge. Emma feels an unfamiliar tingle below her belly; it's a feeling she has never felt before and she tries to shift slightly in order to relieve it, but to no avail.

 

The Sultan plunges into the water with a small splash and swims towards her. He stops a few feet away, droplets from his hair streaming down his handsome face as he wades in the pool, water glistening over his hard muscles. “I can see why you would choose to bathe in the pool, it is rather refreshing,” he says breathlessly and runs a hand through his inky wet hair. “Do you explore the palace often?”

 

Emma is not sure how to answer him. If she tells him where exactly she goes, she'll certainly receive a punishment. “Occasionally, Your Majesty,” she answers carefully.

 

“And where do you go?”

 

“Just around the palace. The gardens are really beautiful,” she adds casually, offering a small smile.

 

“Aye, they are,” Killian nods, eyeing her carefully. “I have a private garden I tend to frequently. Gardening is my favorite past time,” he boasts with a proud grin.

 

“Oh? I thought chess was your favorite pastime.” Emma doesn’t realize her mistake until the words slip from her lips and resonate in her ears. The blood immediately drains from her face, her jaw hanging open on its own accord.

 

_Oh fuck._

 

He cocks a brow, his eyes twinkling with triumph as though the mystery of the century has finally come to light. “So, you are the one who I've been playing chess with?”

 

Emma swallows the large lump in her throat and manages a weak nod. He doesn’t look too happy, but there’s no use denying it now; she’s already given herself away. She lowers her head in shame, a slew of apologies leaving her lips. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I anticipate my punishment.”

 

She waits for him to become enraged and scold her for her disobedient behavior, or worse. So when he doesn't respond for what feels like an eternity, Emma is baffled. She looks up at his face, and he closes the distance between them until he’s so close she loses the air from her lungs once again.

 

“Punish the best chess competitor I've ever had the privilege of playing against? I would never forgive myself for the injustice.”

 

To say Emma is perplexed beyond belief would be an understatement. Her features crease in confusion, mouth falling open as his cerulean blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight and his lips pull into a delightful grin.

 

“You are not angered, Your Majesty?”

 

“How could I be?” His eyes fall to her lips. “I'd rather kiss you if you'd allow me to.”

 

Emma blushes deeply as he reverts his gaze to her eyes. “You keep asking for my permission, Your Majesty? You are Sultan and I am yours… or so I am told,” she adds, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

 

Killian's smile fizzles, and he appears to be wounded, as though her words had cut him deeply. “I would never take you without your permission,” he vows, his words cracking. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. I will fight for your affection, my swan, I will not steal it.”

 

Emma’s heart flutters as she reads the sincerity in the Sultan’s eyes, simultaneously drowning in his ocean blue depths.

 

“Have you ever been kissed?”

 

Her expression sours at the bitter memories of her first kiss, and she peels her eyes from his appealing face to study the swirling water between them, unable to look at him.

 

“Please do not bow your head to me,” he coaxes softly, gently taking her chin in his hand and urging her to look at him. His touch sends a shiver down her spine, despite the overwhelming heat. “And do not be afraid of me. I would never hurt you. Tell me, why would an experience like a kiss sour your face so?” His words are genuine and his eyes are soft, melting her heart.

 

“I am ashamed to confess a man has stolen my first kiss,” she murmurs quietly, peering up at him to catch his reaction.

 

Killian's eyes darken as he stares at her, utterly appalled by her confession. “He forced himself upon you?”

 

“Only a kiss, but I bit his tongue before he could continue any further.”

 

Emma is startled when the Sultan chuckles. “You are one feisty lass. I do not wish to lose my tongue, therefore I will wait for as long as it takes to win your trust.” As Killian starts to move away from her, Emma places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving.

 

“You may kiss me, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian's eyes flash to hers. “Is that what you wish?”

 

“Yes, please,” she begs unabashedly as her eyes flicker to his lips; the neediness is evident in her voice when her words spill out into a moan. She tells herself she is only trying to get close to him as part of her scheme, but her body is telling her otherwise. She wants this man. _Badly._ “Replace my first kiss with one I actually desire.” Her eyes lift to his as he glances at her lips again. She gives him a shy smile and moves closer until she can feel his shallow breath on her skin. Blue connects with green so suddenly, it steals her breath. Her eyes pierce into his and she looks at him, _truly looks_ at him, with the pure intention of revealing her secrets, but only a few, inviting him to peer into her soul.

 

~*~

 

He regards her with curiosity and intrigue, takes her waist in his hands and presses her wet, gorgeous body against his, the adrenaline inside him spiking through the roof. He brings his hand to her cheek, gently caressing her smooth, supple skin with his thumb. Emma’s breath catches in her throat, luminous green eyes holding the same desire he feels for her. He leans in, their breaths mingling as he crushes her mouth with his and pulls her close, so she’s fully embraced in his arms.

 

Her lips remind him of soft, delicate flower petals as Emma responds, taking his lead by returning his kiss and wrapping her arms around him, holding him tight. A flux of heat surges through him, coaxing a groan from his throat. His head is spinning, he feels her heart flutter against his chest, feels her lovely breasts through his chest hair and her hardened nipples strain against him as they become impossibly close, his throbbing manhood pressed hard to her stomach. She emits a delicate moan into his mouth, and he swallows it down, taking the opportunity to thrust his tongue past her lips, yearning to know how sweet and decadent she tastes. She responds with fervent enthusiasm, her mouth warm and welcoming as she deepens the kiss.

 

Their lips move in perfect harmony, her tongue dancing with his, so sweet and pliable, slowly waking parts of him he thought were long dead. He strokes her lovely curves, moving his hand up her arm to her neck, feeling her smooth, creamy skin against the roughness of his palms. She’s so perfect and responsive, faint sounds rising from her throat and pouring into his mouth; he has never been so aroused in his entire existence. It’s pure ecstasy every time their tongues touch.

 

He knows they need to stop though, for he fears if he continues any further with her, he’ll take her right here in the pool, and she deserves much more than that. The thought troubles him slightly, and he puts it away to be considered later.

 

Breaking the kiss, he tries desperately to catch a breath as he presses his forehead to hers for balance.

 

“Did I do something wrong, Your Majesty?” she asks, strangled words falling from her lips in a breathless slur.

 

Killian manages a laugh, his words completely shattered. “Not at all... that was even better than I had imagined it to be. I just hope my kiss was better than your first.”

 

Now it's Emma’s turn to laugh. “There is no comparison. It shall be my first kiss, indeed, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian lets out a breath, stroking her wet hair as he realizes he's still very erect. “I am relieved, love, but I'm afraid you must leave now, lest I ravish you in the water.”

 

Emma licks her lips and nods softly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“But I promise you this—your first time will be under the moonlight with scented candles, a soft love song playing and a Sultan who already adores you.” As he breathes the words, his heart is thumping wildly in his chest, and he surprises himself by how much of an effect she’s had on him in a short time. Not only is she clever and beautiful, but she also challenges him and baffles him more than anyone ever has. He should be angered by this, but he rather enjoys it more than he’s willing to admit.

 

“Good,” she nods, a soft smirk gracing her lips. Tearing herself away from him, she leaves him in the pool, his length pulsing under the water’s surface. She rises from the pool, water cascading down her exquisite form, no longer shy about her body as she strides over to her clothes.

 

Killian shivers, immediately shaken by the loss of her warm body against his. Feeling emboldened she bends over to fetch her clothes, giving him a delicious view of her rosy butt cheeks. She dresses, pulling on her cloak and covering her body, a shy smirk playing along her lips as she turns her head to look back at him. Killian growls as he watches her saunter away. With only the view of her clothed backside when he'd hid in his study, he had no idea she would be so stunning.

 

Gods, is he in trouble.

 

His cock is still hard as steel, and he must relieve himself, lest he bolt after the vixen and pounce on her, breaking his promise. So, he takes his stiff cock in his hand and strokes himself, hoping to relieve the tension and desire built up inside him. On one hand, he’s cursing himself for letting a woman influence him like this; he hasn’t been so captivated by anyone since Milah, but on the other hand, maybe his mother and concierge are right. If Killian continues to deny himself the chance to love again, he'll never escape the lonely path he is on—he’ll never have a family of his own, never have a son to pass down his legacy to.

 

Killian’s breathing picks up as he pumps himself hastily and fiercely before anyone catches the Sultan engaging in a forbidden indulgence. Unbridled images flood his mind as he ponders what Emma’s snug, virgin walls will feel like around him, imagines what it will be like to completely lose himself inside her warmth. As his orgasm builds higher and higher, as he gradually finds that imminent release he so desperately needs, he also finds clarity. His eyes slip shut when he reaches his peak, his entire body trembling violently as he spills his seed, “little minx” tumbling from his lips in a groan. As he comes hard in the pool, harder than he’s come in a long time, he also comes to a conclusion.

 

He needs to put the past behind him and start moving forward.

 

His muscles go limp, and while he waits for his heart to calm before attempting to climb out of the pool, he can’t help the smile that slips onto his lips. He knows exactly what move to make next.

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to clear something up because I think people may have misinterpreted what I wrote, which is my fault because of what POV it was in and the order of the scenes, but I promise there is a reason to my madness. So, what I'm talking about it is, a reviewer had said my notes about Killian taking sterile concubines didn't match what I wrote in the last chapter. That may be true, but what was said about it in the chapter was not coming from me as the narrator, it came from James in Emma's POV. Just because Kira thinks Killian would ask the concubines to become sterile doesn't mean he would, it was just one of her fears because normally she brings him what he wants, and now she wants him to sire a prince, and she doesn't want anything to get in the way of her plans. There is a scene in the next chapter where this is clarified, but because I think I had upset a few over this issue and probably lost some readers because of it, I felt it needed to be said. Honestly, I didn't think really think about it when I wrote it, and anyone who reads my other stories knows that I always have a tendency to write Killian as over the top perfect because that's how I view him, so I never intend to write him as a character who puts a bad taste in anyone's mouth. Hopefully, this puts people who were concerned about it at ease, but if anyone has questions about this or anything else regarding this fic, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or send me a pm over under Tumblr to the same username. I had originally wanted to write the women to be naturally sterile, but that was something rare back then, but I realize that sometimes sticking to writing what is realistic is not always the best route to take.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for your lovely comments and for following along, hope you enjoy the chapter!

When Emma rushes back to the women’s quarters before she has to be present at dinner with the other concubines, she’s completely and utterly smitten for the Sultan. She’s never felt like this, her skin is flushed, her heart doing a pitter-patter in her chest and her head is spinning. She may have to change her strategy a bit because she knows she won't have to fake any affection she shows the Sultan. The intensity of their kiss is something she couldn't fake if she had truly tried. A passionate, toe-curling kiss was something she’d only heard about from her mother and the maids at the castle. It was something Emma had only dreamt about. And the fact that the Sultan is genuinely kind and sweet and the most handsome man she's ever seen, is a complete game changer. He is all the things Baelfire is not. She'd expected the Sultan to treat her as his property, she could've only imagined that if he'd seen a naked concubine outside of the women's quarters, he'd have raped her and had her beaten, but instead he had asked permission to kiss her and promised to only have her in his bedchambers when the time was right. Emma is still perplexed by this. Obviously, she has formed a very false and narrow-minded opinion about him before ever meeting him.

 

She has to banish the smile from her lips when she slips into her oda to change out of her damp clothes. She's relieved to find it empty, but to her surprise, Elsa emerges from the curtain before Emma can fetch a dry outfit.

 

“Where have you been, Emma?” Elsa asks curiously, scanning her clothes and hair before meeting Emma’s gaze.

 

“Oh, I was just in the bathing area,” Emma replies nonchalantly as she retrieves some dry clothes from her cupboard which is located behind the bottom half of the wall paneling next to her bed where her personal belongings are stored. “I was afraid I'd be late for dinner, so I left in a hurry without even bothering to dry off.” When she turns to face her roommate again, she fears the silver blonde is on to her, judging by her narrowed eyes and questioning half-smirk.

 

Elsa crosses her arms over her chest, casually making her way towards Emma. “So, what's it like to bathe outside the harem?”

 

Emma gapes at her friend in surprise. She thought she'd been careful enough to not be seen whenever she'd snuck off. “How do you know I left the harem?”

 

Elsa gives a soft, casual shrug. “I just assumed since I saw you leaving one day. I followed you to a room and you disappeared into it, so I crept up to the door and saw you at a chess table.”

 

Emma’s heart flutters in panic “You saw that?”

 

Elsa nods. “I thought it was odd because there was no one else in the room with you. Were you playing against yourself?”

 

Emma shakes her head, her eyes laced with apology for not telling Elsa of her escapades. “No, I’ve been playing against the Sultan,” she murmurs, placing the fresh clothes on the bed. She sits next to the neatly folded fabrics, sighing as she looks up at Elsa in shame. “I have been playing chess since I was young so when I saw the chessboard for the first time, it tempted me. Only then did I find out it was the Sultan’s chess game, for it is in his study.” Emma looks down, fingering the material of the dress she will be changing into. “You will not tell anyone, will you?”

 

Elsa shakes her head. “Of course not. You’re my friend and I do not wish for you to get into trouble,” she assures Emma and lays a hand on her arm. Emma peers up at her, offering a gracious smile.

 

“Thank you, Elsa.”

 

“Of course.” A wide grin blossoms over Elsa’s lips, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Have you met the Sultan since you’ve been going into his study? Have you ever caught him in there, or has he ever caught you?”

 

Emma blushes and smiles, shaking her head. “No, he is never around when I enter the room.”

 

Elsa quirks a brow, a mixture of curiosity and confusion etched in her features. “If you’ve never met him, then why were you smiling when you returned?”

 

Emma was hoping her friend would not inquire about that, but Emma doesn’t see any reason not to tell her, about the pool anyway. “You promise you won’t say anything?”

 

“I promise I won’t.”

 

“I was smiling because I felt freer than I had in months,” Emma claims, which isn’t a complete lie. “I was in one of the gardens when I found a pool. I bathed by myself for the first time since we were brought here.”

 

Elsa’s mouth opens in a gasp as she plops on the bed, sitting next to Emma. “So that's why your clothes are damp?! Oh, how lucky you are!” Elsa chants enthusiastically. “Where is this pool? Perhaps I will go, too.”

 

“But you might get in trouble,” Emma laughs.

 

“So will you!” Elsa exclaims, playfully swatting her shoulder.

 

“Okay, maybe I will show you one day.”

 

Elsa claps her hands in excitement. “Thank you, Emma, I look forward to it.”

 

They’re so immersed in conversation they do not realize someone is listening on the other side of the curtain. The eavesdropper casts a shadow over the red fabric, which goes unnoticed by the gediklis because they are facing away from the curtain. The shadow disappears once they change the topic of conversation and get ready for dinner.

 

~*~

 

The early autumn sun is strong, and the fresh breeze does nothing to cool him down or help with the sweat forming at his hairline. The unabating sounds of metal clanging against metal resonate throughout the courtyard, the sunlight’s reflection bouncing off the blades as the two men attack and parry, swinging and blocking, jabbing and thwarting each other’s movements. They move with expert precision, each ducking and twisting when necessary to avoid the path of the other blade.

 

Killian remembers when he’d held his first sword in his hands, even though he was too young to truly learn much—he was not yet five years old, and he was clumsy back then, for his fingers were small, his muscles weak and the sword heavy. But Killian was the grandson of a Sultan and if Sultans knew anything, it was determination, strength—both physically and emotionally—and how to wield a sword. Killian not only wanted to learn how to use it, but he also needed to learn it.

 

It meant that for his weakness as a young lad, he had quickly learned what to do with a sword. He quickly learned what it meant to become strong and fight like a Sultan. And yet, at the moment, he feels very weak, though not physically weak; his mind is constantly drifting off to visions of green eyes and golden hair. Emma’s vibrant smile, her beautiful breasts, her alluring scent and the taste of her lips drown him, weakening every part of him.

 

James swings his sword so quickly, Killian doesn't have enough time to block him, and instead, the Sultan’s sword is knocked out of his hand. Soaring through the air, it lands in the grass as Killian leaps back to avoid the end of James’ blade, falling to the ground with a groan.

 

James stands over him, holding the point of the blade at Killian’s neck as the Sultan raises his hands in surrender. “You were great with a sword when you were a child.”

 

Killian frowns at him. “Your words cut like a sword.”

 

James offers a grin as he removes the blade from the Sultan’s neck and extends his hand, helping Killian off the ground. “You’re still pretty great at it.”

 

Killian gives in to a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. No other man would be able to send me to my back. This moment makes me glad I am not your enemy.”

 

“I am glad as well,” his concierge chuckles. “Normally, I would not be so lucky to send you on your back. That is what your concubines are for, Your Majesty, is it not?” he teases as they sheath their swords and find a shady spot underneath a fig tree. They relax in the grass where Pages bring them olives, cheese and sherberts. Every day, he and James either engage in sword practice at the palace or travel to the Meydan with their arrows and spears for target practice.

 

“Indeed you're right,” Killian chuckles, anxious for one concubine, in particular, to have him on his back as she rides him into oblivion.

 

James drains his silver goblet and selects an olive, chewing it slowly and childishly spitting out the pit into the chalice. “Your Majesty, tell me what troubles you.”

 

Killian glances at James, catching a knowing smirk on his face. A rosy blush spreads over the Sultan’s cheeks as he scratches behind his ear, a smile threatening his lips. “What gave me away?”

 

There’s mirth dancing in James’ eyes as he regards the Sultan with a quirked brow. “The better question is _what hasn’t given you away_.”

 

Killian takes a sip from his chalice, deciding what he shall divulge to his concierge. The most James knows at this point is that Killian has been playing anonymous chess with one of his concubines, and there is really no reason not to tell him, except he isn't fond of anyone knowing how much Emma has affected him over such a short period of time.

 

“Since when are you hesitant?” he asks playfully, mocking Killian’s words during a conversation they had a while back.

 

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “I am not hesitant… it’s just…”

 

James playfully cocks a brow and waits for him to speak, but Killian is still uncertain as to how he can precisely explain in words the thoughts endlessly roving his mind. He’s not really sure what to say, which is unheard of for him. He is never at a loss for words like this. He speaks with such confidence and passion at the council meetings in front of his army officers. Killian had told them not too long ago he would one day rule the seven seas, and yet here he is, hesitant to speak of his feelings for a woman to his closest friend. “My apologies, you are so confident today,” James jokes with a soft chuckle.

 

Killian sighs in defeat as the soft breeze washes over him. “I met the woman I’ve been playing chess with.” The words leave his lips much more weakly than he had intended, and he looks down, picking up an olive and studying it carefully to avoid eye contact with James.

 

“So she is indeed a woman?”

 

Killian lifts his gaze and pops the olive in his mouth, carefully removing the pit and discarding it on the silver tray. “She is. Her name is Emma.”

 

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of her from Ruby. She is the one who challenged your partisan policy.”

 

Killian’s eyes dart to his concierge, although he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, a woman who dares enter his study would also be daring enough to speak against his policies. “She is the same person?”

 

“Yes, she is one of the lush gifts your mother will present to you on your birthday.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Killian nods, trying to remain impassive when in reality, he already knows of his gifts and is beyond excited to have the honor of being graced with his blonde concubine’s presence at his birthday fete.

 

Nemo had informed him of the virgin gifts the Valide Sultan had requested from him and the great lengths the Chief Eunuch had gone to procure them. He had ensured Killian they were not sterile. Other than that small bit of information, Nemo hadn’t said much about them, only that they were four new gediklis in training, and Killian would not meet them until his birthday. At first, the Sultan had not been very welcoming to the idea of taking concubines who were capable of bearing children, to his bed; he would’ve rather gone to his bed alone to save himself from another possible heartache. He also hadn’t shown favor to the idea of his mother making decisions for him and putting more pressure on him to sire an heir, but that was before he’d met Emma and had come to the conclusion that he wants to start a family.

 

“Does it disappoint you knowing she is challenging your policies?” James asks, pulling Killian from his revery.

 

“Not in the least.” A smirk threatens Killian’s lips; if possible, he is even more intrigued by his swan.

 

James studies him with curiosity. “Do tell how you met her in person, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian blushes profusely, a bashful smile spreading across his lips as he casts a timid glance at James. “You cannot tell anyone else of this.”

 

His concierge shakes his head. “Of course I won’t, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian’s breath quivers as he exhales slowly. “I met her yesterday, she was outside the harem, swimming in the pool.”

 

A mixture of shock and fascination washes over his face. “Is that so? She does like to test the limits of the palace, does she not?”

 

“Aye, she does.”

 

“And what happened when you found her in the pool? How did you know it was your mystery opponent?”

 

Killian smirks. “I had the privilege of joining her and we spoke briefly before she gave her identity away. She mentioned the gardens, so I told her gardening was my favorite pastime, and she let it slip that she thought chess was my favorite pastime instead.”

 

James opens his mouth, his eyes dancing with bemusement. “And how did you respond?”

 

“She feared I would punish her, and perhaps I should have, but James, how could I punish someone who challenges me at a very compelling game of chess? She is currently winning, so I took a break from the game to consider my next move carefully.”

 

“She is very brave, I'll give her that.”

 

“She is,” Killian nods in agreement, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, “and I must admit, her bravery is very attractive. Where did she come from?”

 

“She’s from Misthaven.”

 

“Misthaven?” Killian asks, a slow smile curving his lips. “From your homeland?”

 

James gives a nod. “Yes, and she's a princess, Your Majesty, or so I was told. I was taken from Misthaven long before she was born.”

 

“A princess?” he parrots, arching a brow. It seems his swan continues to surprise him.

 

“Yes.” James sends a questioning glance, scrutinizing the Sultan carefully. “So tell me, Your Majesty, how do you feel about the princess?”

 

Killian’s smile widens, taking over his entire face. “She is beautiful and charming and smart.”

 

“That I’ve gathered, but how do you _feel_ about her?” James asks again.

 

“You would really like to know?”

 

James gives a nod, a smile gracing his lips. “Do tell, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian has to sift through his thoughts a moment before he can possibly begin to supply an answer. He’s not even entirely sure how he feels about the blonde temptress, or at least he’s not sure how to describe his feelings in words. He lets his mind drift off to the previous afternoon when he’d seen her naked in the pool, and how it felt to be in the presence of his mysterious opponent upon discovering this lovely woman was the same person. He also thinks about his moment of clarity in the pool when she’d left.

 

“Well…” Killian pauses when his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat, hoping he can compose himself as he speaks of his feelings for her. “When I saw her, she was naked and her body was exquisite.” A smile pulls at his lips as he stares off into space with visions of her stunning figure on his mind. “My heart was racing, and I felt as if I was drowning. Even though I was above water, I could not breathe. Now I can’t stop thinking about the lovely curves of her body, but I know I must wait to have her until my birthday, out of respect for my mother.” Killian looks over at James and sees him shifting uncomfortably. The Sultan frowns in confusion. “Tell me, my head concierge, why does this topic discomfort you so? Are you not the one who inquired about it?”

 

James blushes, offing a small smile. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but since she was brought here to the palace as not only a gift for you, but a possible future Kadin, I have no doubt she is exquisite, so I wish to hear more of how you feel about her, rather than her physical beauty.”

 

Killian nods in understanding, and suddenly the blush floods his cheeks once again.

 

“There you are blushing again,” James taunts him. “Tell me why she makes you blush.”

 

The Sultan chuckles. James is right; Killian seems to blush every time he thinks about how he feels about her. He takes a deep breath before answering. “We shared a kiss,” he admits, suddenly becoming shy again. “It was…” He blows out a breath, his mind frazzled from simply thinking about it. “It was life-changing,” is the only way Killian can honestly describe it. “And since then, I have felt… I've felt like for the first time since Milah, I can find love again. I can finally begin to think of starting a family.” He tears up at the idea and looks over at James, afraid of his concierge’s reaction, although he shouldn't be. He knows James only wants him to be happy.

 

A slow grin creeps across James’ lips. “You can, Your Grace, and you are on your way there. This woman is already affecting you, I could tell before you spoke a word of her.”

 

Killian raises a brow, surprised. “You could?”

 

“Well yes,” he chuckles. “I have known you for many years, and never have you allowed me to win at sword practice. Nor have you ever been at a loss for words, so yes I could sense a change.”

 

“Apologies, my friend.”

 

Both men push themselves up, ready to head inside the palace.

 

“Please, do not apologize, I am glad you are finally opening your heart up to the possibilities that await you.”

 

“Thank you, James.” Killian smiles appreciatively and draws his concierge into a hug. He is grateful for James and the brotherhood they have formed. He is thankful he still has someone to lean on after losing his blood brother and father, and he hopes that one day, the Sultan after him will also have a brother to lean on, whether he is blood or not.

 

He pats his concierge on the back, and James’ features are creased with confusion as they break the hug. “I would like to say you’re welcome, but I’m not so sure what you are thanking me for, Your Majesty.”

 

“For making me see clearly again. I have done everything in my power to avoid getting close to a woman again, but you have reminded me why it is important to start a family... and not because I do not yet have an heir, but because I want my children to become as close as you and I are, as close as Liam and I were. I want them to lean on one another, not start rivalries for the throne.” He looks at James and smiles. “You have always been there for me, and I want my children to be there for one another, too.”

 

“And I will always be there for you,” James promises sincerely, raising his hand to gently squeeze the Sultan’s shoulder. “You will be an amazing father, so I have no doubt you will teach them the importance of family.”

 

“Thank you, James.”

 

They walk casually inside the palace, discussing another hunting trip to occupy Killian so he can think of his swan without being tempted to seek her out before his birthday. But before they go their separate ways to prepare for the trip, James turns to look at Killian once more.

 

“Tell me one more thing, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian looks over at him, lifting a brow. “What is it you wish to know?”

 

“How will you continue the chess match?”

 

A mischievous smile crosses Killian's lips. That is a question he can easily answer, for he knows precisely how to continue it.

 

~*~

 

After Emma’s schooling for the day, she heads to the Sultan’s study with butterflies fluttering around her stomach. It’s been three weeks since she had seen the Sultan at the pool, but she hadn’t been able to find an opportune time to leave the harem without anyone seeing her, and she is hoping—hoping might be an understatement—no, she is beyond anxious to see whether the Sultan has finally responded to her previous move or not. She had been too enamored by him and not brave enough, if she’s being honest, to ask why he has not made his next move yet.

 

Emma steps into the room and approaches the chessboard. Her eyes widen as she scans the board. She is amazed beyond belief, her mouth falling agape, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she is seeing the board correctly. He has left his king wide open for her. Normally she'd think it’s a trap, but once Emma makes this move, the Sultan will be done for, since she can easily sweep in and checkmate his king, claiming her victory. He has let her win. But why? For what purpose? Could he be trying to send her an abstruse message? But what message? Perhaps he is trying to tell her he surrenders to her? And by that, he is also telling her he is surrendering his heart? Or perhaps he is testing her to see if she is willing to surrender herself to him by not taking his king, and then he will sweep in and take her king after she leaves his white one be.

 

Emma is confused as to how to proceed. She thinks about it for a long while, her lips pursing together as she ponders what to do. If Emma surrenders to him, he will have the upper hand and all of her efforts will have been wasted, but if she wins, she will prove to him she has power over him, and perhaps he will be turned off by her insolence, and he will seek out another concubine? Shall she take that risk? After all, she doesn't wish to be intimidated by him nor feared by him. As James had said, if Killian does not see what value she possesses then he is foolish.

 

Emma is not vain by any means, but she is well aware of the effect she’s had on men in the past. They had desired her and would’ve gladly taken Baelfire’s place to be married to her. She even thought, at one point, Graham was one of those men. He was a friend or at least pretended to be, but she’d often wondered whether his feelings for her were purely platonic or something more. Emma’s features grow solemn. Thinking about the man who’d betrayed her makes her shiver.

 

The last time she’s trusted a man, he had let her down. She has put much faith in her uncle and sees her father in him, yet she still doesn't know if he is truly trustworthy or not, though she really wants to believe he is. Emma is not one to back down from a challenge though. Her uncle is challenging her to steal the Sultan’s heart and the Sultan is challenging her to steal his king and simultaneously his own heart. Or so she hopes.

 

After several moments of internal debate, Emma finally makes a decision. She reaches for her black queen, and as she starts to move the piece, the door flies open, causing Emma to whirl her head around.

 

Standing at the doorway are Nemo and two guards. Emma releases the game piece, her eyes widening as she stands up. How did they know she was in here? “My apologies for leaving the Harem, I’m afraid I have gotten lost.”

 

“I’m sorry Emma, but we have been ordered to bring you to the Valide Sultan.”

 

She nods cooperatively, swallowing thickly. She’d expected this would happen eventually; it's the risk she’s been taking by leaving the harem and entering the Sultan’s study. “Of course.” She quickly moves to the corridor, and with a guard on each side and the chief eunuch following behind her, she wonders how the Valide Sultan knew she was not in the harem. She thought Elsa was the only one who knew. Perhaps someone had noticed she was missing and went searching for her. Emma's thoughts are put on pause for the time being as they reach the harem courtyard where Kira appears to be very angry.

 

“My Sultana, I am very sorry,” Emma apologizes sincerely, bowing her head. “I wandered off too far and lost my way.”

 

The woman moves swiftly and lifts Emma’s chin to look her in the eye. “That is enough lies. You have intentionally disobeyed the rules bestowed upon you. Leaving the harem, walking down the golden road without my son’s summons and entering his study?” Kira scoffs, her features twisting in disgust as she releases Emma's chin. “You may be beautiful, but beauty fades over time. And Nemo tells me you have a razor-sharp mind and have excelled in your studies, but intelligence will not warm the Sultan’s bed. We don’t need clever, we need well-behaved, and you are certainly not.”

 

“But I am well-behaved, Your Majesty, I am just not accustomed to the cloistered life of the palace. I will try harder, I promise.”

 

“I don’t care for your excuses!” she shouts, her sharp tone startling Emma. “You have no doubt been drummed with the expectations of the palace and are clearly aware of what is forbidden, where you can go and where you cannot! You want to venture off wherever you please, perhaps you will enjoy venturing off to the dungeon.” She looks at the guards and tilts her head towards Emma. “Get rid of her.”

 

Panic is rippling through her as the guards grab her arms. If Emma's in the dungeon, how is she supposed to dance for the Sultan on his birthday, which is in two days? If she's not there for the ceremony, he will undoubtedly choose someone else to take to his bed, someone who could potentially give him a prince, and her plans will be ruined. Emma's eyes widen in panic as she looks around, seeing Mother Superior and other servants and eunuchs who, judging by their puzzled expressions, clearly do not agree. There is a woman standing beside the Sultana, whom, as her elegant clothing suggests, Emma presumes is the sister of the Sultan she’s heard about, but the young woman appears to be impassive to the whole situation.

 

“But Your Majesty, she is a gift for the Sultan’s birthday, as you have asked me to procure.” Nemo reminds her in a stern tone, and although he is questioning her orders and has a very strong position as Chief Eunuch, Emma can sense he is afraid of Kira. A smile almost graces Emma’s lips as she looks at him, thankful he is speaking up for her. She prays this will convince Kira, for the Chief Eunuch is correct—the entire reason for Emma being here is so she can be presented on the Sultan’s birthday with hopes of giving him a prince.

 

“I asked you to bring me the best concubines you could find and you have done a fine job with the others, but unfortunately you have selected this woman poorly. Find an odalisque to take her place.”

 

Nemo’s fear floats to the surface as he looks at Emma, for he knows she will be impossible to replace. “But my Sultana—”

 

“Do not argue with me!” Kira snaps angrily. “Take her down to the dungeon and lock her up, or your manhood will not be the only thing you are missing!”

 

Nemo looks like he has just swallowed his tongue as he nods his compliance. “Yes, my Sultana.” He turns to the guards, gesturing for them to move. “You heard our Sultana, take the girl to the dungeon.”

 

Emma squirms against them as they pull her out of the courtyard.

 

“No, you can’t do this to me!” she screams. “Pleeeease! Let me go!”

 

The Valide Sultan pays her no mind and dismisses the staff from the courtyard. Following behind her mother, Regina has the hint of a smirk on her face, for she is the one who had overheard Emma’s conversation with another concubine about leaving the harem, and waited to witness her leaving with her own two eyes before informing her mother. If this little slave girl thinks she can come and go from the harem and do as she pleases, she is sadly mistaken.

 

~*~

 

The day has finally come. It's his birthday, and he's not sure he's been this excited in all his existence. Not only of the possibilities of a future with the swan girl from his harem but also the conclusion of the chess game they've been engaging in. He is anxious to see how she's responded. He had made the move weeks ago before fleeing from the palace for another hunting trip with James. He had been too afraid he’d be tempted to seek her out after their encounter at the pool. Furthermore, he doesn't wish to take another woman to his bed in order to cool the lust he feels for Emma.

 

As a young Neverland prince, he had been taught the ways of women and had grown to be a healthy and virile man, as Sultans normally are, but unlike his father, Killian has sustained some self-control and discipline when it comes to physical intimacy. Thank the Gods he has, because, after the pool incident with Emma, his patience to take her to his bed is wearing thin. And he had arrived at the stark conclusion that no other concubine will be enough to quell the ache he feels for the blonde houri, so why bother trying when he knows all attempts will prove to be futile? He’d made a promise to himself that not only will Emma be the first maiden he will take to his bed as Sultan, but she will be his first wife, and he doesn’t plan on breaking that promise.

 

Killian steps into his study and strides over to the chess board, scanning it over. His heart sinks when he sees all of the black pieces are still intact, apart for one piece that is slightly off-kilter. He wonders what had happened. Did she hear someone coming and pause the game to hide? Has she been unable to return from the harem since then? Or did she simply decide not to continue the game with him?

 

He moves to the door, hauling it open, but pauses before he leaves, turning towards the chess table once more, his eyes studying the piece that had been slightly moved. He’d left his king open, simultaneously laying his heart on the line for her, and returned, hoping she would have responded, hoping she would have laid her heart on the line for him as well. What holds her back from doing so?

 

Killian steps out of the room and heads down the corridor to his private bath to wash off the smell of sweat, horses and forest from his skin as he ponders the question eating at him. Perhaps it’s the first scenario, and she's been too busy preparing for the ceremony that requires his presence in the Imperial Hall tonight, to return to the game. His mother has, undoubtedly, imposed a mountain of pressure on Emma, the other maidens as well as the servants of the palace to make the event seamless. And perhaps Emma has been too overwhelmed with the expectations of the ceremony and the events that may proceed. Though he is hardly present in the harem, he knows very well of the responsibility drummed into every concubine who enters the harem, to please the Sultan. For someone who’s never been intimate with another, let alone a Sultan, the prospect of the first time can be very frightening to think about. He imagines Emma’s mind is too frazzled with all of these things to worry about a silly chess game.

 

Yes, he's sure, or at least hopes those are the reasons why his lovely swan has not returned to finish her turn.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter ended up being much longer than I had anticipated, so I split it into 2 chapters, but the next one will not be posted right away, it still needs some editing. Thank you all for reading and your wonderful comments! I enjoy reading them more than you know :)

The Princess is taunted by one of the many dreams she’s had since she’s been in the dungeon—a dream of the sun shining brightly over Misthaven and warming her skin. She dreams of spending a lazy afternoon just off the castle grounds, she dreams of her parents and her brother, of riding horseback through the woods or along the Misthaven beach. She dreams of freedom.

 

Then she awakes, slowly opening her heavy-lidded eyes to the darkness and the stone walls surrounding her, which are slowly leaching the warmth from her body. The temperature in the prison is bone-chilling, she can hear the sound of rats in the distance and her hands are bound by metal cuffs as she tries to, without much success, control the chattering of her teeth. She shivers violently and shifts slightly, the chain dragging across the floor as she moves her hand over her empty stomach.

 

She's not sure how long she's been here or what time of day it is. She only knows her body is aching with hunger, her lips are cracked and her mouth's as dry as the Atacama Desert. She's only been given a small amount of water every so often and she’s not sure how much longer she will have to endure this insufferable environment. She is supposed to be dancing for the Sultan and winning him over, not wasting away in the dungeon while he finds another maiden to warm his bed.

 

Emma briefly toys with the idea of escaping but quickly banishes it from her mind. Even if she somehow managed to escape, she’d end up being beaten by the orders of the Valide Sultan upon the discovery of her disappearance from the dungeon. Then she'd end up back here, and her sentence would most likely be lengthened. Either that or the Valide Sultan would have her beheaded, stuffed in a sack and tossed into the sea. So, nope, there will be no escaping today.

 

She waits instead. She waits for her uncle to discover she’s missing or for the Sultan to rescue her, though that may be a pipe dream. She closes her eyes once more to visions of the Sultan’s kind, blue eyes, his devilishly handsome face and the hope that he'll remember her long after she dies of starvation. Emma’s eyes fall shut once more, and she tries to sleep again so she can continue her pleasant dreams and forget she’s starving in prison.

 

~*~

 

“My precious son,” Kira greets her son with a warm smile and open arms, drawing him into a hug. “Today is the day we celebrate your twenty-five years of life.”

 

Killian smiles and wraps his arms around his mother, kissing her cheek and embracing the warmth and affection she provides. Her wrath can be deadly, but she has always had a weak spot for her children. Breaking the hug, Kira gently cups Killian's cheeks in her hands, gazing at him with pride. “I have prepared pomp and ceremony for you this evening.” She dazzles him with her brightest smile, moving her hands to his shoulders. “Nemo has found four beautiful concubines for your entertainment.”

 

Killian has to suppress the smile threatening his lips. He has been looking forward to this day for weeks. “Thank you, Mother.”

 

“Of course. Only the best for my son.” A more serious expression slowly replaces her smile, and she pulls away, her eyes a bit cautious and reluctant. “I must inform you they are not sterile,” she says warily. “I know you have expressed your reluctance to find a wife, but—”

 

Killian raises a hand to stop her. “Mother, it’s quite alright. I have done some thinking since our last conversation on this matter. You are right, I must not wait any longer. I am prepared to take a wife,” he informs her without batting an eye.

 

His mother’s eyes light up, a smile taking over her face once again. “Oh my son, I am so happy! I was afraid you would reject the gifts or ask them to become barren.” She hugs him again, but Killian stiffens in her hold, confusion washing over his features.

 

He gently takes her arms in his hands, pulling away from her. “Mother, I have never asked one of my concubines to take the potion that had made them barren. They were always brought to me that way, just as the eunuchs are brought to the palace already castrated.”

 

“Yes, but you have also refused to invite a maiden to your bed if she is fruitful.”

 

Killian frowns; he is downright insulted by the implications. “You think I would tarnish the gifts you have given me? What kind of man do you take me for?” He drops his hands, anger slowly bubbling under his skin.

 

Kira’s eyes widen in apology. “Of course you would never do such a thing.” She waves her hand as though trying to shake off her previous statement. “I did not mean offense, my son. I would not think any less of you if you had. Please forgive my words. You are free to do with your gifts as you please, I would never dare take your freedom to choose away from you, I can only hope you will make the best decisions, but of course, you would. You are an honorable man, Killian,” she praises him with a soothing tone and a small smile.

 

He narrows his eyes warily but supposes he cannot fault her. The Sultans before him had been less than kind to their concubines, using them only to deposit their seed, and if they were not pleased with the maidens, the Sultans would have them beaten or beheaded or they would've done the deed themselves. But still, Killian has yet to see a day when he would even dream of doing such a thing. To him, the women of his harem are precious gems to be protected. They are the reason the palace functions, and they bring joy to the harem. But of course, that has not always been the case. There have been women who only bring darkness and petty jealousy, but he will not tolerate it. Especially after what happened to Milah. Especially when he has chosen an angel he hopes will bear his child and become his wife. After what had happened with his first love, he will make sure to take extra precautions with Emma so no harm will come to her after he summons her this night.

 

Killian gives in to a small simper, pleased by her statement. “Thank you, mother. I only wish to make you and father proud.”

 

Kira's smile widens. “Your father and I have always been very proud of you, son, that will never change.” She leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Now go and prepare to be spoiled tonight. You deserve all of the gifts you will be given.”

 

Killian takes her hand in his, dropping a kiss to the back of it before leaving her suite. He passes through the corridor, and all of the concubines and servants stop in their tracks and make way for him, dropping their heads and folding their hands in front of them. He looks over briefly to see if Emma is among them, but to his disappointment, she is not. He continues on and tries to get through his day without thinking of her, but all of his attempts are fruitless.

 

~*~

 

There’s excitement dancing in Elsa’s eyes as she leaves the corridor after her daily chores and reaches her sister and Merida, who are embroidering outside their oda on a couch.

 

“Guess who I just saw!” she chants, sitting next to her sister.

 

Anna and Merida both give her a questioning look. “Well, are you going to spill, or leave us in suspense?” Anna teases with a laugh.

 

“The Sultan just passed a moment ago,” Elsa replies with a gushing smile.

 

Merida looks up from her task, a scowl on her face. “Why would I care? He’s a pig,” she says tartly.

 

Elsa presses a finger to her own lips to shush Merida. “Do not speak of Our Majesty like that.”

 

“So, tell us, did you get a peek at him?” Anna asks, much more curious than Merida.

 

Elsa grins and nods. “I did, but only briefly. We had to bow our heads, of course, but I saw him coming from the corner of my eye. He is very handsome.”

 

Anna arches a brow. “Really?”

 

Elsa nods. “I just wish Emma would've been here to see him.”

 

Anna agrees, a solemn expression washing over her features. “Do you know what happened to her?”

 

Elsa’s eyes sadden. “Mother Superior said she is ill and very contagious, so we are not to see her.”

 

Anna gasps, concern clouding her features. “Oh, I pray the doctor makes her better!”

 

“Me too,” Elsa agrees with downcast eyes and a doleful look on her face, hoping the illness is not fatal.

 

“I have no doubt she is sick; this place is poison,” Merida mutters spitefully, returning to her task of embroidering the material she’s working on with hostility.

 

Before Elsa can chastise her for saying such things, the double doors fly open, causing all of the women to turn their heads as Nemo and Mother Superior emerge.

 

“Elsa, Anna and Merida, please come forward,” Nemo calls them, clapping his hands. He looks at another concubine, who has been in training for two days, and waves her over; Elsa had heard through the grapevine he had no choice but to choose the odalisque at the last moment since Emma will not be joining them at the ceremony. “Bellina, you too.”

 

The short, blonde woman with a bun piled atop her head joins the other three gediklis.

 

“Tonight, you will be entertaining the Sultan. Come on, follow me.”

 

The four women are led to the baths where they sit around the fountain to be bathed by attendants. It’s not long before Elsa can hear Bellina gloating to some other concubines sitting next to her about replacing Emma, who they refer to as the disobedient one.

 

Anna glares at her disdainfully. “Where did she come from?”

 

Elsa leans in to speak quietly so Bellina can’t hear her. “She’s from a small village in Neverland, called Pixie Hollow. I heard she was born from an impoverished family and ran away, allowing herself to be captured by the Lost Boys so she could live a life of luxury here in the palace.”

 

Merida scoffs, “Who would willingly choose to be here?” The thought fills her with abhorrence.

 

“Poor, starving peasants, I suppose,” Elsa murmurs softly. Though not she nor her sister have ever known poverty, she can’t believe anyone would willingly give up their freedom, unless they were desperate enough to do so.

 

“I do not like her,” Anna concedes, glowering at Bellina. “I wish Emma were here instead.”

 

“Me too,” Elsa agrees, her voice cracked with worry.

 

“I wish we could see her, at least, to make sure she is okay.”

 

“But Mother Superior says it’s forbidden,” Elsa reminds her. “Besides, there is no time. We have to dress and prepare for the ceremony,” she says bitterly; she had been rooting for Emma to dance flawlessly for the Sultan so she could be summoned by him. Emma has made it clear she is not interested in the Sultan, but for the past few weeks, Elsa could see the twinkle in Emma’s eyes and the smile she’d tried to hide whenever he was mentioned.

 

“Then we shall ask again when we return from the Imperial Hall.” Anna looks at her sister, who nods in agreement.

 

“It’s too bad Emma will not be at the ceremony.” Bellina sugarcoats her words, yet her tone is dripping with contempt, and her expression lacks the sympathy her statement claims to have, betraying her fake sincerity. “Though I suppose that’s what happens when you disobey our Valide Sultan.” She shrugs, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “Oh well, it’s better for me, the Sultan will probably summon me tonight,” she assumes presumptuously, observing the three with haughty disdain. “I hear our Master now has a thing for blondes because his former love was a brunette.”

 

“Elsa has blonde hair too,” Anna snaps back defensively.

 

Bellina snickers and shakes her head. “Grey hair is not blonde.”

 

Elsa tightens her fists and forces a sarcastic smile. “I do not have grey hair, it is silver blonde,” she corrects through clenched teeth. “There’s a big difference.”

 

Bellina shrugs. “It looks grey from where I sit.”

 

Doing her best to maintain her normally cool composure, Elsa takes a deep breath, offering a sweet smile. “And yet I was brought here as a gedikli and you were not,” she reminds Bellina, wiping the confident smirk off the other blonde's face. “If our Lord does summon a mere peasant like you, it’s only because he has to settle for much less since the Misthavian princess could not be there to grace his presence with her incomparable beauty.” Elsa’s expression remains calm and collective, yet she is giggling on the inside.

 

Anna and Merida are practically squirming on either side of Elsa, trying to suppress their laughter as Bellina scowls at Elsa. The spiteful girl doesn’t say a word to the other three gediklis after that.

 

~*~

 

The Imperial Hall is domed in gold leaf, it’s walls adorned with blue and red mosaic tile and the floor made of large blocks of cream-colored marble. There are large, jewel-studded pots filled with flowers of different colors and species, all around the room, there’s a fireplace in the center, crackling with small flames and musicians playing soft music behind carved screens. Servants deliver small cakes, sherberts, candied fruits and nuts to the guests as they await the Sultan’s presence.

 

Finally, the great gilded doors are flung open, revealing the Neverland Sultan dressed in a magnificent red and gold caftan, and wearing a gold turban upon his head. His handsome features are highlighted by a trimmed beard and a slight smile.

 

“Behold our great Sultan Killian Khan! May he live a thousand years!” cries the announcer as Killian makes his way to his throne on the raised dais, his head concierge and soldiers following behind him and flanking the gilded throne. His mother and sister and their attendants sit up in the second level of the gallery, watching from above. Traditionally, the couches featured in the lower level of the gallery on the dais near the throne would be where the Sultan’s wives, favorite consorts and their odalisques would sit, but since Killian currently has none, the couches are empty. Today is a very important day, though, for, by the end of it, the Sultan is expected to take a potential wife to his bed with the hopes of creating the heir to the throne. The palace has hummed with the anticipation of this day for weeks leading up to it.

 

As Killian gets settled into his throne, he has to suppress the smile threatening his lips, and instead, wears a grim expression on his face. The ceremony begins, and the doors open again, admitting a large and colorful procession. First, the personal gifts from the inhabitants of the palace, to show their dilection for their emperor, are presented on a tray by a parade of bearers—gold jewelry to add to his rather large collection, books and an elegant dinner service consisting of gold plates and jewel-studded goblets. His sister gives him a sapphire, ruby and emerald studded hand mirror with a shield-shaped glass mounted in gold, and James gives him a new set of spears and arrows for hunting.

 

Then come the religious gifts, tokens of goodwill and expressions of piety from foreign nations; one is a lamp from Agrabah which is gold with a curled handle, a small lid and round, tapered base with a beautifully styled Arabic inscription, praying for the glory of the Sultan. The city of mystery and enchantment has also sent him several cages of exotic birds. Camelot has sent him a sword that is said to have magical powers and is inscribed with his name, Sultan Killian Khan. A neighboring Monarch wishes him well by sending him a procession of several hundred ambassadors and dozens of camels piled high with treasure.

 

The next part of the gift giving process features items from every part of the vast Neverland Empire Killian’s father had shed blood, sweat and tears to expand. Beautifully woven rugs are presented to him, along with a silk and gold embroidered tent, a magnificent black stallion, two gorgeous white mares, a large wooden treasure chest and much more. The last of the Neverland gifts Killian receives is from the province he had governed as the prince. It's an instrument made of brass and used for viewing distant objects. It’s typically utilized by naval officers and ship captains for navigating the oceans and seas, making it easier for them to see outward and for identifying other ships and land. It’s also used to prepare ships for pirate attacks. Additionally, there are rumors an improved model of this instrument will one day be made to gaze up toward the heavens, which delights the Sultan, for he had been an avid astronomy student as a young lad.

 

The final part of the ceremony involves entertainment from the Sultan’s mother. Killian's eyes twinkle in excitement, and everyone's attention is diverted to the dancing girls who parade before the Sultan one by one, each wearing a veil around her face and dressed in a different color. Killian’s lips break into a smirk, for he’s unable to hold it back any longer. He shifts slightly; the anticipation of seeing his swan dance for him is almost too overwhelming.

 

As the four gediklis gather around the fireplace in front of the Sultan, each woman is divested of their veil and pelisse by their attendants. One at a time, the material of the pelisse is draped around their shoulders, revealing each face and the clothing she wears underneath, which consists of pantaloons, a matching bodice, a girdle wrapped around her hips and brocade slippers on her feet. The first maiden has auburn hair and is dressed in lavender, the second maiden is a tall, silver blonde in topaz, the third is a redhead in gold. The fourth woman is the last one to be revealed, and Killian’s eyes are drawn to her, waiting in heightened anticipation. He has waited for this day ever since he’d discovered that not only was his anonymous chess opponent this golden-haired goddess but also that she was one of his birthday gifts from his mother.

 

The last maiden is dressed in an emerald green that matches her eyes, the material embellished with golden threads, and her eyes are sparkling, though not as brightly as they had at the pool. Perhaps the dimness of the room and the light of the fireplace, compared to the bright sunlight make her eyes seem darker. Her veil is removed by her attendant, slowly revealing her face. Killian cannot wait a second longer to see her sweet smile and the other adorable features of her face. He bites his bottom lip in anticipation, his body thrumming with excitement.

 

The veil is gone and there stands a young maiden with a brilliant smile. The four gediklis continue to dance as Killian’s smile fades. Though the blonde is pretty, her dirty blonde hair pulled up with a pearl clasp, she is not the woman who was at his pool weeks prior. She is not Emma.

 

Killian’s fists clench in anger. Why is Emma not here?! Who dares deprive him of the most beautiful maiden in his harem?!

 

He has to force himself to remain seated while the four gediklis move their graceful forms to the music. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe Emma will be presented later? Maybe they have saved the best for last?

 

Yes, that has to be the reason why she is not currently present. Killian perches his chin in his hand and drags his long, ruby ring embellished fingers along the stubble of his chin as he rests his elbow on the arm of the throne. The maidens don him with their best smiles and while they are pleasing to the eye—Nemo knows his tastes quite well, after all—he longs to see his golden-haired goddess.

 

Killian is offered some snacks, but he can’t bear to eat with his stomach in knots, not until he is graced with Emma’s presence. The evening nears its inevitable end, but Emma is still yet to be seen. Killian has grown impatient. He turns to James, who is standing by his side, and beckons him closer so Killian can whisper in his ear. “Emma is not here. Where is she?” he inquires angrily.

 

James has a confused expression on his face as he whispers back, “I’m not sure, Your Majesty.”

 

“Find out immediately,” Killian orders in a quiet and subtle tone.

 

“Very well.” His concierge quickly moves across the room and disappears behind the double doors. No one blinks, their eyes focused on the dancers who try their best to gain Killian’s attention, although the girl he had mistaken for Emma seems much more determined than the others, her hips swaying seductively and her eyes locked on his, trying to hypnotize him. Killian is not impressed though.

 

Several moments later, James enters the room and approaches the throne with a gloomy expression, sending an uneasy feeling through Killian’s gut. Nonchalantly, the concierge reclaims his stance next to the Sultan, facing towards the four maidens. He leans in, whispering softly, “Your Majesty, Nemo has informed me the maiden, Emma, is in prison for leaving the harem without your summons.”

 

Killian's face immediately pales. First, he is saddened and disappointed, but those feelings quickly turn into anger, hot blood bubbling under his skin. Who dare send his concubine to the dungeon without first seeking his permission?! “Who decided this?” he demands in a harsh whisper, struggling to keep his voice low.

 

“Your mother did.”

 

Killian sits up straight, the anger within him increasing by every passing second. He looks up in the gallery but his mother and sister are gone. “Dismiss the dancers.”  

 

James nods and excuses them from the room at the Sultan's behest. After the women and guests filter out of the Imperial Hall, Killian leaps from his throne and storms out of the hall, marching to the harem to find Nemo. He is enraged, not only because Emma is sitting in a prison, but because his mother had sent her there! She's the one who'd wanted him to find a wife and now that he's finally ready and has selected one in particular, his fickle mother sends her away!

 

“Release Emma immediately!” His roar quakes even the powerful Chief Eunuch, Nemo Nautilus.

 

“But Your Majesty, the Valide—”

 

“I said, release her!” Killian repeats, cutting him off. “I will deal with my mother later, but right now, I want Emma released this instant, or there will be hell to pay!”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Nemo bows to him and quickly scurries off, Killian marching behind him as the Eunuch leads the Sultan down to the dungeon. With trembling hands, Nemo retrieves the ring of keys from the girdle of his uniform and unlocks the prison door. Pulling it open, he moves aside, allowing Killian to rush inside, his eyes frantically roaming the dark prison in search of his princess. His heart sinks when he finds her laying on the cell floor in chains, all curled up. Killian dies a little inside upon seeing her.

 

“Emma...” he whispers, his voice cracked and his eyes dark. His demeanor instantly transforms from fierce and hot-headed to gentle and soft. But why is he this torn? How can he care for someone so much after speaking with her all but one time?

 

“Your Majesty, your mother demanded we withhold food and drink from her while she has been in prison.”

 

A mixture of emotions rattle the Sultan—rage, fear, agony—as he drops to his knees and quickly scoops her delicate, pale form up into his arms. He presses the back of his hand to her cheek. She’s still breathing, but she’s cold to the touch and her lips are pale blue.

 

“Unlock her from these chains,” Killian orders softly, his soul much too weak to yell any further. The Chief Eunuch does as he’s bid, unlocking the cuffs from Emma’s wrists. Killian soothes his fingers over the spot where the metal has marred her skin. His heart aches for his lovely flower, and he decides she will be cared for under his watch. “Send Mother Superior and a doctor to my chamber, Emma will be tended to there.”

 

Nemo nods and gets a head start, making sure all the occupants of the harem are in their odas or dormitories and the doors are shut so no one will be in Killian's path. No one bats an eye at the orders; this is a common practice in the palace when the Sultan summons a maiden to his bed so nothing can interfere with the Master's pleasure.

 

Killian feels an overwhelming amount of protection for his maiden as he moves to his feet and hurries out of the dungeon, carrying Emma in his arms. He rushes through the harem to his chamber where James is waiting, his eyes widening and concern washing over him. Killian rushes past his concierge, not having the will or energy to speak to anyone at this moment. Not until he knows Emma will be okay.

 

Gently depositing her in his canopy covered bed with her head laid back amid the pillows, his heart is bleeding as he and James work quickly to wrap Emma in blankets to warm her up. Mother Superior enters with a small basin full of water and a cloth, which Killian takes from her and delicately wipes the dirt off of his swan’s pale white face, her eyelashes resting against her cheek, leaving a smudge of black kohl on her skin. His actions toward the maiden astonish the Kalfa, for Sultans are never to be burdened with such menial tasks, but Killian is too worried about his lovely swan to care about such customs. He caresses her delicate, cold cheek with his free hand, his eyes solemn with worry and anger. How could his mother send him this precious gift and then deny him of her presence? It was as though his mother had handed him the rarest of jewels before promptly ripping it from his hands.

 

~*~

 

Emma’s eyes flutter open, and instead of peering into the darkness of the cold, damp prison, she finds herself in a warm, dry bed wrapped in blankets with worried blue eyes staring down at her.

 

“Emma…” the Sultan speaks in a whisper, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he sits on the bed, next to her.

 

She looks around her, confusion etched in her features. “Where am I?”

 

“You’re in my room, love. Do not worry, I will take care of you.” His voice is soothing as he leans in and kisses her lips.

 

She's surprised by how tender and delicate he is. It's only a chaste kiss, but Emma can sense the emotion behind it by the way his breath trembles against her skin, the way he doesn't pull away immediately and stays there just relishing the moment and the feel of her lips against his. Emma's heart flutters at his endearment.

 

When he finally breaks the kiss, their lips cling to one another before pulling away. Emma blinks up at him, catching the wrecked and worried expression etched in the Sultan's handsome features.

 

He strokes her hair and looks at Nemo. “Bring her food and water.”

 

The eunuch nods and disappears from the room, returning moments later with a bowl of hot soup, bread and a goblet of cool water on a tray. Mother Superior starts to take it, but Killian swipes it from her hands. “Leave, I will feed her myself,” he says, his voice more even and calm. “James, you may stay.” Nemo and Mother Superior bow their heads and leave the room as James waits patiently by a window. Emma can detect how concerned he is from across the room.

 

The Sultan sets down the tray and helps Emma sit up, propping up a pillow behind her back before bringing a spoonful of soup to her lips. “Please, eat, love.”

 

She does as she's told and slowly draws the broth, chicken, vegetables and rice into her mouth, licking her cracked lips when she's swallowed it. He feeds her a few more spoonfuls, and the nourishment of the soup gives her the energy to speak.

 

“My Sultan,” Emma begins, her voice weak and raspy. “I am so sorry I have disappointed you.”

 

“Hush, my swan, you have not disappointed me,” he assures in a soothing tone. “Your imprisonment disappoints me, you do not.” His lips crack into a small smile as he holds the bowl in one hand and moves the hair from her forehead with his other hand. “You risked your freedom and life for a game of chess with the Sultan, how can I possibly be mad at you?”

 

Emma manages a strangled laugh. “You are very forgiving, Your Majesty, I do not deserve your kindness.”

 

“You are right, my swan.”

 

Emma's features cloud with regret as her eyes avert in shame.

 

“You deserve so much more.”

 

Emma gazes up at him in shock.

 

“I know of your stature, love. You are not a slave, you are a princess, and thus, I will treat you as such.”

 

“But you are my master, I am to serve you, and instead I disobeyed the rules of your harem,” she retorts, her words holding much more strength.

 

“But I allowed it to happen. The guards were commanded to turn away if they saw you in my study. I wanted you there. If I did not, you would not have been allowed in during your second attempt,” he assures her.

 

Emma's eyes widen at the realization of this. And all this time she thought she had just been sneaky and clever enough to not get caught. Emma drops her head, speaking softly. “Oh, I am sorry, My Master.”

 

“Don't be, princess.” He brings his hand under her chin and lifts it up delicately so he can gaze into her eyes. “I quite enjoyed our game,” he admits with a coy smile. “We shall finish when you are better.” He kisses the center of her forehead and moves his hand to her cheek, softly brushing the pad his thumb over her supple skin. “Rest and get well, my swan.” Tearing himself away from her, he turns to his concierge. “James, watch over her while she rests.”

 

He nods his compliance. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

 

After the Sultan leaves, her uncle rushes to her side, speaking softly. “Emma, you know I was not aware you were in the dungeon, right? Not only was I hunting with the Sultan, but even as head concierge, I am not allowed in our Master's harem, so how could I know?”

 

“I am aware, my uncle,” Emma assures with a frail smile. “It's okay, I deserve much worse than a cold dark, rat-infested cell,” Emma mumbles quietly. “I shouldn’t have left the harem in the first place.”

 

“But Emma, our Majesty is already enraptured by you,” James assures with a grin. “Do you think a Sultan would carry a maiden from the dungeon to his bed and personally feed her himself? It has never happened in the Jewel of the Realm, I can tell you that much.”

 

Emma should feel delighted by this, but somehow she feels ashamed. “I don't wish to be treated as a damsel, the people of the palace will see me as weak.”

 

James shakes his head in disagreement. “Just give it time, my niece, people will see how strong you are.” He sits on the edge of the bed and kisses her forehead. “For now, you must gather that strength of yours and be prepared for the Sultan to ask you to his bed when you are well.”

 

Emma's eyes twinkle with hope as she looks up at her uncle. “You think he will?”

 

James grins and draws Emma into his arms. She rests her face against his chest as he cradles the back of her head, dropping a kiss to the crown of her hair. “I don't think so, I know so.”

 

His words comfort her, and also the way he holds her. Emma lets her eyes fall shut, pretending for a few blissful moments that he is her father. He does not smell like her father, nor does he have the same demeanor her father possesses, but she allows the warmth he provides her and the physical resemblance to trick her into believing he is. His kind, encouraging words and the fact that he is her uncle is enough to lull her to sleep.

 

~*~

 

The Sultan storms into his mother's suite with a fire no one has seen from Killian before. His head is spinning with anger at his mother's tactless strategy of locking up one of his gifts without even discussing such matters with him first. Kira's maids freeze in fear and bow their heads.

 

“Leave me with my mother,” he demands.

 

They quickly scamper away as Kira stands from the couch with narrowed eyes. “What is going on, my son? Why do you storm into my suite like a typhoon?”

 

“The better question is why do you punish me so?”

 

His mother appears to be angered by the accusation. “What are you babbling about? I prepared a ceremony for your birthday, where you were buried in gifts, tell me how is that punishment?”

 

Killian scoffs and places his hands on his hips. “Allow me to enlighten you. One of the gifts you brought to the palace—you sent her off to prison and starved her!”

 

Kira’s eyes explode with confusion and shock. “How did you know of the imprudent slave?!”

 

“Because, mother, I met her while she escaped the harem.”

 

“Then you know how disobedient she is, you should have had her whipped or beheaded! It is no wonder she thought she could get away with disobeying the rules!”

 

“I will do no such thing to any of the jewels of my palace!” Killian vociferates loudly, cringing at the thought of bringing harm to his lovely swan. If a demon possessed him, and Killian _did_ harm her or any of the other women in the harem, it would be for what? To prove he is a man and that no one has power over him? Killian has a very different definition of what a man is, compared to what he and the sultans before him were taught to believe. “Whatever I choose to do is my business, not yours. Do not forget your place.”

 

Kira is enraged. “How dare you put a slave above your own mother?! This is not how you were raised!”

 

Killian draws in a long breath to subdue his anger. His mother’s need to clash with him on the matter at hand irritates him. Like most of the Mother Sultans before her, Kira’s views on any concubine with a low status, or rather any staus, revolve around her main prerogative—to maintain her power—and Killian fears this is his mother’s way of trying to prove she not only holds the reigns of the harem, but she holds the reigns of the entire palace. Of _him._

 

“Emma is no longer to be addressed as my slave. You may be my beloved mother, but if you wish to retain my respect, you will respect my wishes,” Killian admonishes her calmly. “You will not make any decisions regarding the harem without speaking with me first.”

 

“I am the ruler of the harem!” Kira states vehemently. “If I see a concubine breaking the rules, am I to ignore them and allow them to do as they please? How was I to know she had already caught your eye?”

 

“If you had come to me first, rather than go behind my back, you would’ve known.”

 

“You were hunting! Was I supposed to wait for your return?”

 

“Yes, you should have,” he answers sharply. “I told my guards to allow her into my study.”

 

“And again, I did not know of this. When I ordered them to bring her back to the harem, they did not dare to defy me, so how was I to know you were willingly allowing her to do as she pleased?”

 

Killian nods. “You are right, my dear mother.” He runs a hand through his hair and slowly paces the room.

 

Kira is surprised that he acknowledges this. “Thank you.”

 

“No, thank you…” he mutters, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at her, “thank you for making me realize I must make it clear to everyone in the palace that Emma is my favorite.” To his delight, Kira is appalled by her son's decision, her mouth hangs open and she's too much in shock to argue. “She has been released and is now resting in my bed, I will have her moved to her own private apartment as soon as she is well again.” From his caftan, Killian removes a folded red handkerchief he had planned on giving to Emma during the ceremony. He hands it to his mother, and she studies it scrupulously. “After she is settled into her apartment, you are to give this to her and tell her I wish for her to join me at the eighth hour of that day, wearing an outfit I will gift her. I also wish for her to dance for me.”

 

Kira sighs, exasperated, but agrees to it spitefully. 

 

Killian turns and heads toward the door before looking back at her once more. “Oh and one more thing.”

 

“Yes, my son?” she asks warily.

 

A conspiratory smile slowly creeps across his lips. “When I summon my lovely gozde to my bed, I want you to be the one to escort her to my bedchamber, and you will do so proudly, with a smile on your face.”

 

Before Kira can open her mouth to protest, Killian dashes out the door and finds Nemo walking through the halls.

 

“Nemo, I need a favor from you.”

 

The Eunuch bows his head. “Anything, Your Majesty.”

 

“As soon as Emma is well again, I want her moved to the Apartment of Favorites. I want it to be known that she is my favorite and if anyone brings any harm to her, their heads will roll, is this understood?” His tone does not allow any protest.

 

Nemo nods. “It’s clear, Your Majesty.”

 

“Good,” the Sultan replies calmly and walks away.


	8. Chapter 7

Emma awakes the next morning to the sun shining clear and bright through the windows. For a few moments, she has to remember where she is and how she’d gotten there. After rubbing the tiredness from her eyes and allowing her mind to clear from the heavy haze of sleep until it slowly wanes, she remembers the Sultan had rescued her from the dungeon and had taken care of her. He had returned after a while and had stayed with her past the wee hours of the night before he'd left to sleep elsewhere. A smile crawls across her lips. She will not forget how tender, sweet and protective he was with her.

 

Emma looks around the room, taking in the luxurious surroundings. Though she had been in the Sultan’s bed since the prior night, she had not been feeling well enough or cared enough to take the time to get a good look at her Master’s bedroom. It’s a large room with rich accessories, yet spartan in its furnishings, with high walls, made of blue, orange and viridian mosaic tiles, and multiple windows overlooking the Sultan’s garden and the vast waters surrounding the palace. The center of the room hosts a low table surrounded by multi-colored cushions, and there’s a fireplace shaped like a copper pyramid with a fire glowing softly, a velvet gold divan across the room and a large wooden chest banded in gilded leather near the terrace doors. The square bed where Emma lays rests on a cream colored dais hung with a canopy of gold and red silk brocade curtains, and supported by columns of fluted silver. The quilts and cushions are of rich crimson velvet, each one laced with pearl.

 

The bedding is warm and soft, and though she wishes to remain wrapped up in the cocoon of blankets and pillows, she also does not want to overstay her welcome, so she pushes herself out from underneath the covers, the bottoms of her bare feet reaching a soft rug. She stands and slowly stretches her limbs before making her way across the room. She had been bathed and her clothes had been changed, so she’s now wearing a long, ivory colored, silk nightgown. There’s a pale pink robe sprawled over the edge of the bed she assumes is for her, but she decides she will wait to be offered the clothing. She will no longer test the limits of her place in the palace. If she is to rise through the ranks of the harem hierarchy, she will obey the rules and she will wait to be invited and offered things rather than behave and act how she pleases. She knows it will be difficult, but it’s something she must do.

 

Before Emma can reach the double doors to knock, they spring open, and Mother Superior enters with a large tray of food, the wonderful smells wafting into the room.

 

“I see you are up,” the petite woman says with a small smile. “Are you feeling better, my child?”

 

Emma nods and offers a smile in return. “Yes, I am, thank you.”

 

The Kalfa places the tray on the low table as Emma's eyes widen at the array of food. “Who is this for?” she asks as Mother Superior offers her the robe. Emma inserts her arms in the sleeves, and the other woman drapes it over her shoulders.

 

“Why it’s for you of course. The Sultan wants you to eat well.”

 

Emma reverently kisses the back of her hand and presses her forehead to the same spot. “Thank you.”

 

“You mustn't speak of this to the concubines of the harem,” Mother Superior chides gently, but even a scowl on her face looks soft, showing the kindness underneath her stern facade. “If they heard you were having breakfast in the Sultan's bedchamber, they would lose their minds. We’ve already had to sweep word under the rug that you were sent to the dungeon for sneaking off from the harem. If everyone knew, they would all want to break the rules of the harem with the hopes of the Sultan taking care of them.” Her voice is firm, yet her eyes hold a twinkle of amusement.

 

Emma bows her head. “I am sorry, Mother Superior, it will not happen again.”

 

“Say no more, my child, and eat so you can get healthy and strong again.”

 

Emma obliges and sits on one of the cushions at the table, starting to eat her breakfast, but her eyes are much bigger than her stomach. Nevertheless, she savors the taste of the food, devouring each morsel she can afford in her belly.

 

When she decides she cannot possibly eat another bite, the doors open and the Sultan passes through the threshold. Emma quickly rises and bows her head.

 

“How are you feeling, my swan?” he asks in a gentle voice.

 

“Much better, thanks to you, My Sultan.”

 

He strides over to her, gently lifts her chin and plants a kiss to her forehead. Emma’s skin tingles and warms at the soft touch of his lips. He draws out a long sigh of relief, his quivering breath fanning her forehead. “I’m glad,” he whispers softly.

 

“But, I’m occupying your space. I shall leave, Your Majesty.” Emma curtsies and waits for him to excuse her, but he gently takes her arm in his hand to keep her from leaving.

 

“Wait, love, don't leave yet,” he pleads, his voice cracked. “We must finish something, first.”

 

Emma cocks a brow at him. “And what would that be, My Sultan?”

 

Killian grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he extends his hand to her. “Follow me.”

 

Emma eyes him warily, and slides her hand into his, allowing him to lead her to the adjacent room, which is his study. It dawns on her what he wants to finish, he wants her to finish her turn.

 

“It would be bad form not to finish the game, love.”

 

She lets a small laugh spill from her lips and takes a seat while Killian takes the chair across from her.

 

Before, Emma had to think about where to go next, but now it's clear as day. She moves her queen but does not take his king.

 

Killian’s brows wrinkle in confusion. “I have allowed you the path to my king, why do you not take it?” he asks softly.

 

Emma answers easily. “Even as a princess, I never took what was not mine. The same rings true with chess. I will not accept a win I have not rightfully earned.”

 

Killian nods. “Very well then, my swan.” He follows his statement by placing his hand on the white king and lays it down gently on its side. “I shall resign respectfully then,” he says with a smirk.

 

Emma's eyes widen at this. How could a Sultan of all people give up his position so easily, even if it is just a game? “You surrender your king to me, My Sultan? But why?”

 

“Because, my swan, if I had not, we would be dancing around each other for hours to come, and I'm afraid my imperial duties will not allow it.”

 

Emma has to hold back a laugh at his logic. “Fine, I win this time, but there shall be a rematch another time, of course, if My Sultan allows it.”

 

Killian nods, a warm smile gracing his lips. “I shall. For now, I will let you get back to your quarters.” Emma rises from the chair, and Killian gently places a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me one thing, love...”

 

“Anything you wish, my Master,” she says loyally, staring into his cerulean eyes. She can see the warm gaze he offers her but she also detects the storm brewing within those stunning blue depths, his features clouding with worry. But even with a grave expression, he is still the most handsome man she's ever seen.

 

“Take care of yourself in the harem. I don’t wish any harm to you, but despite my position in the palace, not everything is under my control.”

 

Emma nods in understanding, his words crystal clear to her. He fears anyone he loves will receive the same fate Milah did. She bows her head. “I promise, Your Majesty, I will not leave the harem unless you request it so.”

 

Killian lifts her chin again. “What have I said about bowing your head to me?” he asks in a gentle voice.

 

A small smile tugs at her lips. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

 

The Sultan grins playfully, his cheeks coloring with rosy red. “You are forgiven. Now return to your quarters until I summon you.”

 

Emma’s green eyes widen in surprise, her mouth slightly falling agape.

 

Killian's grin only stretches wider across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, my swan. I made a promise to you and I plan on keeping it.” He lifts her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

 

Emma flushes, gracing him with a coquettish smile. “I shall wait for you patiently, My Sultan.” With that, she curtsies once more and leaves him.

 

She hurries to the harem, where she is greeted exuberantly by her waiting friends.

 

“Oh, Emma, I am so glad you are okay!” Elsa cries out, drawing Emma into a hug. “We were so worried.”

 

Anna and Merida take turns hugging her as well, and they sit on the couch to chat.

 

“Can you keep a secret?” Emma asks them, making sure there is no one within hearing distance. Mother Superior had warned her, but Emma knows she can trust her three friends.

 

The three girls nod. “Of course.”

 

Emma speaks quietly. “They kept me in prison for leaving the harem, but I am fine now,” she assures them. “The Sultan rescued me and brought me to his bed to take care of me.”

 

Elsa's eyes widen. “Oh my, we were told you were ill, but the dungeon sounds worse.”

 

“Were you afraid?” Anna asks in concern.

 

“No, and if I were, Mistahavians do not show their fear.”

 

“Did you really get to sleep in the Sultan’s bed?” Elsa asks.

 

Emma laughs. “Yes, but he did not join me. It was not exactly the ideal circumstance.”

 

“Still, the Sultan himself took care of you, that is something,” Elsa gushes. “He must have been very impressed by your chess skills,” she says sarcastically, but at the same time, she’s donning a smile. “I knew you had seen him before, the pool must have been great, but only a man could put a smile on a woman’s face, like the one you wore that day.”

 

Emma blushes and offers an apologetic smile. “I really wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know if I should.”

 

“It’s okay, Emma, I’m not mad, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

“So, the Sultan took care of you, tell us what it was like?” Anna urges, her eyes buzzing with curiosity.

 

Merida, on the other hand, rolls her eyes. “Who cares? The Sultan does not impress me. I will never want to trade places with you, Emma.”

 

Elsa gasps at the redhead. “What have I told you about saying such things about our master?”

 

Merida’s eyes widen at Elsa. “You, the would-be queen of Arendelle addressing a man as your master, you should be ashamed of yourself! You all should be. Just because he is handsome, does not make him a good man.”

 

“But he is,” Emma snaps defensively. “I have spoken with him in person. He is like no other Sultan we have ever heard of. He is kind and gentle, you must not speak of him as a lesser man. You should be proud to be his gedikli.”

 

Merida scoffs. “The three of you have already been cast under the Sultan’s spell. He will take all of us one by one and then turn us against one another.”

 

“We made a promise to always be friends,” Elsa reminds her. “Besides, I have no interest in the Sultan. He is handsome and kind, yes, but I am content with sitting and watching from the sidelines and experiencing the Sultan through Emma. And as for Anna, another man already has her heart, Kristoff, right sister?”

 

Anna nods, her face growing solemn. “Yes. Though I will never see him again, he will always have my heart.”

 

Emma sighs in relief. “Oh, I am so glad, I feared you all would hate me for catching the Sultan’s eye first.”

 

“Of course we don’t, Emma,” Anna assures her. “We love you no matter what, and we have no intention of betraying our promise to one another.”

 

Elsa nods in agreement. “Please, do not be afraid. If you adore the Sultan, do not be deterred. You deserve to be happy.”

 

“As do the three of you,” Emma says, though she cannot tell them how she wishes them to be happy. As much as she wants to, she cannot tell them that in the future they will be freed as slaves and sent back home; if word gets out that Emma is planning to rule the empire and make changes, then anyone with any seniority in the palace would turn against her.

 

“We are just glad to see you well and happy,” Elsa says, and Emma can feel her eyes prick with tears.

 

Emma hugs them again, including a reluctant Merida, who is still holding on to the resentment Emma had felt in the beginning, but the redhead also wants Emma to be happy, so she agrees to hold her tongue for Emma’s sake. When Emma turns her head away from her friends, she can't help but notice a blonde woman she’s never seen before, shooting her a death glare from across the courtyard. “Who is she?” Emma asks her friends quietly.

 

Elsa turns her head to see who Emma’s referring to. The silver blonde frowns. “Oh, don’t mind her, she took your place for the ceremony, but the Sultan frowned in disappointment when he saw her,” Elsa laughs, remembering vividly the expression on his face when Bellina's identity was uncovered.

 

Emma has to suppress a smile at that. “Really?”

 

“Yes, I don't think he meant for anyone to see, but he was definitely frowning, and at the time we did not know it, but he was disappointed because she was not you.”

 

This makes Emma’s heart sing with joy. And here she had spent that entire time in her cell worried he would find another maiden, but instead he had charged out of the Imperial Hall enraged because she was not there to dance for him.

 

Before Emma can comment, the double doors fly open and Nemo appears, clapping his hands together. The chatter stops and they all stand as the Chief Eunuch approaches Emma. “Gather your belongings, my lady,” he says with a small smile. “Our Majesty has named you as his favorite and has requested you be moved out of the dormitory and to your own apartment.”

 

Emma gasps in shock. Though she knows he will summon her, she can’t believe the Sultan has made the decision to make her his favorite already. She has been to his bed, yes, but she has not yet given her maidenhead to the Sultan yet. She decides not to question it any further though.

 

Instead, she rejoices with her friends, and they chatter in excitement as a few attendants move Emma’s things upstairs to her own room. As Emma ascends the stairs to the Apartment of Favorites, she can’t help but notice the blonde woman glaring at her in disgust and walking away. Panic ripples through her. If word gets out about the actual circumstances that had led to the Sultan naming Emma as his favorite, she knows the blonde and the other concubines will start gossiping about how she had gained the Sultan’s favor by breaking the rules. She still doesn't know how the Valide Sultan found out about that. But Emma is confident she would’ve gained his favor no matter what.

 

She shakes off the negative thoughts and explores her new quarters. There is a large sleeping couch hung with green, silk curtains, a fireplace glowing with small flames on the other side of the room and a pair of double doors which lead to a private terrace where pretty birds chirp in their cedar cages, and the balcony overlooks the sea, She even has use of her own bath with a cascading fountain of scented rosewater, and is allowed her own gedikli as her maid. She chooses Elsa, whom Emma knows will be more than delighted to take the position. Excited about these turn of events, Emma dances blithely around her private apartment, laughing and twirling around like she is five years old again.

 

“I take it you are feeling much better?”

 

Emma stops suddenly, feeling dizzy as the room stills. Her eyes widen as they land on Kira, who appears with an attendant, carrying some folded red fabrics. Emma immediately folds her hands together, bowing her head.

 

“Yes, I am, thank you for asking, My Sultana.”

 

“Very well. My son has requested your presence this evening. You have two hours to prepare.”

 

Emma lifts her head, her eyes wide. She’s not surprised he has called upon her, but she’s surprised his mother has come to deliver the message personally, after throwing her in the dungeon.

 

Kira extends her hand offering a silk, red handkerchief to Emma. “He has asked me to give this to you as a symbol of his affection.”

 

Emma accepts it, her eyes still wide with disbelief. She takes the Sultana's hand, kissing the back of it before pressing her forehead to the same spot as a gesture of respect. “Thank you so much, My Sultana.”

 

“I did not decide this, my son did,” she mutters resentfully. “All I ask is that you present yourself as a Neverland lady should and do not do anything to displease my son. Your manners must be flawless.”

 

Emma nods. “Of course.”

 

Kira reminds her of a few more details for when Emma enters his chamber. “Custom demands you show your obeisance by prostrating yourself upon entering the room and touching your forehead to the rug, is that understood?”

 

Emma knows very well of these things already. Nemo has taught her and the gediklis well. “Understood, My Sultana.”

 

“Very well.” For the first time since Emma's been to the palace, she can detect a hint of smile curving Kira's lips, pleased to hear Emma's compliance.

 

Emma's facial expression is impassive, but she is grinning on the inside. She now knows the key to the top of the hierarchy is not only to please the Sultan, but to appease his mother as well.

 

Kira waves her head toward the fabrics. “My son has requested you wear these garments he has gifted you, and prepare to dance for him. When the time has come for my son to take you to bed, the Eunuch will divest you of your clothes and depart. Then you are to approach the edge of the bed, take the corner of the coverlet in your hand and first press it to your forehead and secondly to your lips. Only then are you allowed to enter his bed. Do so by climbing up from foot until you are on your knees and level with the Sultan.”

 

Emma has to suppress a smirk since she has already entered his bed, and instead she nods respectfully and listens to the Valide Sultan. Although, she hopes Killian does not actually make her humble herself in such a debasing way.

 

“Come now, I will escort you to your private bridal bath.”

 

Emma smiles and follows behind the Valide Sultan, admiring the handkerchief in her hands. According to Neverland culture, an ornate handkerchief is a high compliment, and the one her Sultan has gifted her is very elaborately decorated. It’s embroidered on all four sides with a thick border of gold thread, small seed pearls and intricate designs. She kisses the handkerchief and touches her forehead to the fabric reverently as Kira tells Emma to take good care of it, for it shall be a reminder of her and the Sultan’s first night together. She also tells Emma if she does everything Kira tells her, the Sultan will invite her to his bed again.

 

Emma has to smile, and not only because she knows this will be just one of a thousand nights she will spend with the Sultan, but she also smiles at the irony of it all. Kira is the one who had sent Emma to the dungeon so she would not be presented to the Sultan, and now Kira is escorting her from the Apartment of Favorite’s to her son’s bed while advising her how to please him. It will only be a matter of time before Emma is pulling the strings of the palace as the Sultan’s wife.

 

As the Valide Sultan babbles on, Emma’s sweet smile borders on malicious. She is confident knowing Kira will the rue the day she tossed Emma into the dungeon.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! (Unless you saw my note on Tumblr.) So now that this chapter is posted, I will be putting a pause on this story to work on the next chapter of AHH for those who have been patiently waiting for an update. But not to worry, there is much more of this story to come (no pun intended 😉). Beware of very mature content in this one and future chapters *cough* smut *cough*

The palace is quiet, all the doors and windows secured, apart from Emma’s chambers and the way to the Sultan's apartment, to prevent anything or anyone from distracting Killian and his chosen one from their pleasure. As she is bathed, massaged and pampered, her stomach is tight with knots at the prospect of giving away her virginity to the Sultan. She is excited beyond belief, yes—her skin flushes from the thought of being with him—but she is also afraid she will be clumsy or not adequate enough to please him.

 

Emma's nails are dyed, her hair is perfumed with jasmine, her skin pomaded with henna to prevent sweating and her eyes blackened with kohl. She is then dressed in the outfit the Sultan himself had gifted her. Elsa assists with her hair, pulling the locks of golden curls back into a pearl clasp, and Mother Superior places a ruby red necklace around her neck, matching earrings in her ears, and a string of red pearls into her hair. Around her face sets a sheer red veil, and on her feet are red and gold brocade slippers. Elsa is beaming as she holds up a mirror for Emma to inspect her reflection.

 

"You look so beautiful, Emma."

 

Emma smiles underneath the veil, confident the Sultan will be pleased with the way she looks at least.

 

Her heart is hammering in her chest as Kira escorts her down the golden road to the Sultan’s chamber, Nemo leading the way. She has been down this road many times, but this time is very different. This time she will finally get to unite with her Master in the most intimate way. Tonight she will give herself to him, body and soul, and she will do it not because she has to, not because she hopes to mother his heir, but because she feels affection for the Sultan—affection she has never felt for anyone before.

 

She may possibly be _in love_ with him.

 

The thought scares her and she banishes it instantly from her mind. It is impossible to love a Sultan, for he is first and foremost a ruler and second a warrior. Tonight, her only purpose is to bring the Sultan pleasure, and that’s it. This night is not about her own feelings or how she craves the Sultan’s touch with every fiber of her being. No, tonight is about the Sultan. She will simply entertain him and let his seed flower inside of her and pray her belly will eventually blossom with his child.

 

They reach the two wooden doors, inlaid with mother of pearl and tortoiseshell, that lead to the Sultan’s chamber. Two of his private bodyguards stand on either side as his Mother and gozde approach.

 

Emma takes a long, deep breath. This is the moment she had gambled everything for. The Chief Eunuch throws open the doors and leads her inside. On trembling legs she enters, her breath taken away as her eyes sweep over the room. She had been in his room before, and it was beautiful, but this evening, the Sultan’s room is majestic. So much so that she thinks she might pass out from the glorious anticipation. Below the high-domed ceiling are censers with fragrant burning aloes, on golden chains glittering with turquoise and rubies. The fireplace is lit, the oil lamps glimmer in niches on the wall, tapers burn in platinum candlesticks at the four corners of the bed and there’s soft music playing from somewhere outside that she can hear through the opened doors of the terrace.

 

“Please, come to me, Emma,” she hears the Sultan call from the balcony, where his back is turned as he faces the sea.

 

She’s suddenly very shy as she moves toward the terrace, and when she reaches the Sultan, she drops to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground.

 

Killian bends over to raise her up, and she stands on her feet, peering up at the Sultan. “Bowing is for slaves, not an intelligent princess. Never prostrate yourself to me again, my love,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

 

Emma’s mouth falls open as she takes in the glorious sight of her Master. He's dressed in all white and looks like an angel sent from the heavens above. Underneath a silk robe, his wardrobe consists of a pair of trousers and a matching nightshirt with a patch of dark chest hair peeking out of the v-neck. Atop his head sits a turban of pure white silk with heron feathers protruding from a red ruby clasp set in the folds, and his bright blue eyes are glinting as he graces her with a toothy grin, those luscious lips framed by his trimmed, dark beard.

 

"May I?" He asks, fingering the fabric of her veil. "I wish to see your face."

 

Emma nods and emits an almost inaudible, "Yes, Your Majesty."

 

He removes her veil and lifts a hand to her face, caressing her cheek. “Gods, you are stunning,” he whispers and kisses her forehead. "I have seen many pretty lasses in my time, but none as exquisite as you, my love."

 

Emma shivers at his words and his touch, remembering their steamy kiss in the pool, remembering how his warm, soft lips had felt against hers, how his tongue had tasted as it tangled with hers.

 

“Will you dance for me?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Emma nods and allows him to take her hand and lead her inside.

 

~*~

 

As they enter his bedchamber, Killian regrets asking her to dance for him; he’s already feeling a slight stir of desire for his gozde, and he can’t wait to have her in his bed. Not only has it been several months since he has lain with a woman, but this is the first time he will be taking a maiden to his bed since his enthronement, when he had been sworn in as Sultan by the Panas Sword - the sword which was named after the God of Eternal Youth and the founder of the Neverland Dynasty, Panas.

 

He looks to Nemo and waves him away. “You are excused.”

 

The Chief Eunuch bows and departs from the room. Traditionally, a eunuch is to remove the maiden’s clothes, but as the Sultan’s eyes rove over his elegant swan’s body, taking in the exquisite curves and remembering how divine she was without them, he cannot possibly give up the honor of removing her clothes himself.

 

Now alone, Killian can see the insecurity in her features as she stands there before him, a bit unsure of herself. He lifts his hand to caress her supple cheek. “Relax, Emma, there’s no need to be afraid, it’s just us,” he says in a calming tone, and offers a reassuring smile.

 

“Sorry, Your Majesty.” She lifts her eyes to his and offers a feeble smile in return, her features relaxing a little into his touch.

 

“No need to apologize, love. I will wait until you’re ready." He pulls away from her to give her space, and sits on the divan, reclining back. Emma stands in front of him, covered in the outfit he’d gifted her, which consists of a pair of sheer red pantaloons, a matching bodice and a wide gold girdle tasseled with red rubies resting around her hips.

 

She starts with a simple exhale of breath, feeling the pressure of Killian's adoring eyes as her body begins moving to the music, her hands and hips swaying slowly and seductively. She’s casually spinning and twisting as she dances, her body swiveling in an enchanting way. Her movements are tranquil, yet dynamic, and the way her hips move and the way her green eyes pull him in, he is absolutely entranced by her. He casually leans forward with his hands resting right above his knees, watching her with stars in his eyes, a goofy smile taking over his features.

 

Raising her arms, Emma slowly turns around and swings her hips, eliciting a low growl which rumbles through his throat as he watches her shake and tease him with her heart-shaped bottom. She slowly turns toward the wall and tilts her head to face him with those alluring green eyes, a sly smirk playing along her lips. She reaches her arms out toward him before drawing them in, her hands following the curves of her body. With the way her hips move, slippery as a snake and fluid as water, there is something incredibly primal about her dance. She’s like a cunning seductress sent to this palace to entice him. If she was, then he is completely ensnared, his eyes following every move and his heart racing in his chest. He is briefly saddened she was not at the ceremony for everyone to see how exquisite she is, and instead was wasting away in the dungeon, but he quickly banishes the thoughts, not wanting to dampen the mood.

 

Emma raises a brow, eyes glinting with curiosity as she reads the emotions on the Sultan’s face.

 

“Would Your Majesty care to dance with his slave?”

 

He starts to wonder why she continues to speak of herself so, but the thought melts away when he sees the want in her eyes. She does not see herself as a slave, only a slave to her desires. And though he is the Sultan, he feels like he is the one who is enslaved. “You want to dance together?” he asks in bemusement, not accustomed to dancing, let alone with a partner. He’s only had the pleasure of women dancing for him.

 

Emma laughs. “I forget we are from two different worlds,” she teases him. “Where I am from, there are royal balls where couples dance together. Come here, I will show you,” she says with a come hither stare, extending a hand to him.

 

He looks into her eyes and immediately makes up his mind, slipping his hand into hers and standing from his seat.

 

“Place this hand on my hip and this one in mine.”

 

He complies, taking her delectable waist in the hand not entwined with hers. He looks at her face, and when his blue eyes meet her vivid green ones, his breath is stolen from his lungs. They shift closer and Killian’s breath stutters as her body is pressed up against his, much like their embrace in the pool. Emma’s face is flushed as she flashes a small smile, her cheeks almost the same color as her costume. They start to move, and Killian follows her lead. Casually they spin and twirl, never breaking their gaze or the grasp between his firm, callused hand and Emma’s slim, dainty one. At one point their dance begins to resemble a traditional ballroom dance, with the Sultan taking the lead and dipping the princess, spurring on soft chuckles from his throat, and giggles from her. He can't remember the last time he's had this much fun. Probably never.

 

“I take it you’ve been to many of these ballroom dances,” he says as the laughter slowly dies in his throat, his cheeks filled with blush. He has never been this close to a woman while not also engaged in a less than innocent activity

 

“Actually no,” Emma replies, her lips breaking out into a smile. “Well, unless you count the times I danced on my father’s toes when I was a child,” she laughs, her eyes full of nostalgia at the distant memory. “I was never a dancer, I mainly watched my parents dance together. They were really something to watch because their love for each other always showed in the way they danced, and the way they gazed at one another.”

 

Killian’s heart begins to ache for her, knowing she must miss her family deeply. “Ah, the King and Queen of Misthaven,” he says softly.

 

Emma nods, a single thin brow raised in question. “Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

 

“James, my head concierge told me. He’s also from Misthaven.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Emma nods.

 

“How were you brought here, love?”

 

Her smile fades at the question, and her voice is weak. “I was betrayed by a bodyguard. He was paid by an evil countess to kill me and instead he handed me over to a pirate captain called Blackbeard,” Emma mutters spitefully.

 

Killian's stomach churns. “Damn bloody pirates,” he grumbles, and Emma’s eyes are downcast, her long lashes dipping as her features cloud with a sadness that pulls at his gut, his facial features etched with regret. “Although, Sultans are the same aren’t they? Stealing the most valuable treasures in the realm for their own pleasure.”

 

Her eyes lift to his. “You are not the one who betrayed me or kidnapped me, you are not the who brought me here. You follow the religion and customs of your people, I cannot fault you, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian caresses her cheek, offering a tentative smile. “I am sorry you were taken from your family.”

 

“I am not,” she replies, shocking him to his core. “If I weren’t, then I would not have met you, My Sultan.”

 

Killian wonders why she feels this way, and he thinks it has to do with more than just him alone. Something else has triggered her feelings, and he is determined to learn all he can about her, but he puts those particular musings aside for the moment. “So tell me, if a princess like you does not like to dance, what does she like to do?”

 

Emma’s eyes light up at the question. “I enjoyed my duties as the Misthaven Crown Princess, but also horseback riding with my brother and spending time in my mother’s garden. She has one like your garden with the pool,” Emma says, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.

 

“I see,” he chuckles, “and of course you like playing chess as well?”

 

Emma nods, her lips cracking into a smile. “Yes. My father taught me when I was five. He gave me a white knight which belonged to my uncle, who was taken from his home a long time ago," her features once again cloud with sadness, "but then the boy I was to marry, broke it.”

 

His eyes widen in shock, although he shouldn't really be surprised. He surmises many men would kill to marry such a goddess as her. “You were to be married?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty, but I did not love him. He was the one who tried to force himself upon me without my permission.”

 

“And you would have married him if you were not taken?”

 

Emma nods reluctantly. “His father is the powerful king of the Dark Kingdom. We signed a betrothal, and if I broke it, he would have declared war against our people after my parents had worked so hard to restore the kingdom when they took the throne. So, perhaps being kidnapped was a blessing in disguise,” she murmurs quietly. “I’d rather be here with an honorable man than a pig like Prince Baelfire,” she admits, her eyes shining with the truth she speaks.

 

Killian’s heart flutters at her words. “I may be a Sultan, but I still live by a code."

 

Emma dazzles him with a smile. “And it shows, My Lord.”

 

Her grin is infectious and he offers her one in return as he gets lost in her emerald depths. The dance turns to one full of tension as they move swiftly and embrace in the light of the moon and candlelight. Killian begins to feel dizzy with the emotions reverberating in the room.

 

He dips her again, a short, breathy laugh escaping him as he pulls up his companion’s small frame. In their position, with Emma's hands gripping his biceps and his own arms around her waist, Killian’s half-lidded eyes search her face as they breathe heavily against one another. He lifts his hand and removes the pearl clasp behind her head, letting her hair fall down like a cascade of luscious, golden curls over her shoulders. Her green, fiery eyes glow in the candlelight, her lips parting ever so softly; she is so exquisite and beautiful, he can’t help but feel desire for her burning within him as he wonders what fires smolder within her. Does she want him as much as he wants her? Dying to find out, he surges forward, roughly cupping her face in his hands, and crushes her lips with his.

 

Emma is surprised at first, but quickly returns the kiss, her lips moving swiftly against his. Their first kiss had been soft and delicate, but this one is needy and demanding on both ends, both of them nibbling on the others’ pliant lips. Emma removes his turban and tosses it to the divan so she can fist his hair in her hands, roughly tugging the tufts of his dark locks to pull him closer. Emitting a soft groan, he slides one hand in her hair as his other one grabs her hip, pressing her to him. His arousal is apparent between them, his manhood throbbing in his trousers, desperate to break free from the confinement.

 

Breaking the kiss, they are both breathless as their lips separate, their foreheads touching in order to find some sort of balance. The hunger for her surges through him, and his hands work quickly at her bodice to satiate that hunger. Emma’s eyes cloud with lust, her teeth teasing her lip as he practically rips the fabric open and peels off the rest of her clothes to reveal that gorgeous body underneath. He growls when she stands naked before him, his eyes raking over her heavenly form. Full, supple breasts, a slender, hourglass figure, miles of creamy white skin, a flat stomach which leads his eyes to a silky nub and her long, perfectly toned legs. His princess is a goddess in every way, her nipples straining under his gaze, craving the touch of his hands. To his dismay, though, she turns and begins to walk toward his bed, and he remembers the customs of his people. Undoubtedly Emma has been instructed to kiss the coverlet before she is allowed to enter his bed.

 

As much as he enjoys the view of her backside, he remembers himself and takes her hand, pulling Emma toward him, and she crashes softly in his arms.

 

“Your Majesty?” She looks at him, confused, a brow raising in question.

 

“Emma, there is no need for you to degrade yourself in front of me. As I told you before, it’s just the two of us here.” His lips curve up into a devilish smirk. “Besides, you’ve already been to my bed, even if it were less than pleasurable circumstances.”

 

Emma smiles shyly and blushes, looking down between them. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian chuckles as his hands caress her hips, his cock aching to be inside of her. “I have wanted this since I saw you that day in the pool; I have not been with a maiden since then. I have not wanted anyone but you.”

 

Emma’s eyes widen as she raises her face, her bright emerald greens blinding him. “You, the powerful Sultan of Neverland, have a harem full of beautiful women at your fingertips, and yet you waited for _me?”_

 

He nods and utters a weak, “Aye.”

 

Emma’s breath catches in her throat, and she doesn't say anything, too at a loss for words. Instead, she grabs his shirt and starts unfastening the buttons. Her eyes are flooded with desire as she pushes off his shirt and robe, letting the fabrics slip to the floor and pile at his feet. Her stunning eyes are locked with his as she shoves his trousers down, finally freeing his straining manhood and letting his erection spring free. She blinks up at him. Her pupils dilate as her eyes roam down his body, his cock pulsating underneath her heated gaze.

 

 _God, give me strength,_ he prays to himself. _Let me be gentle with her._

 

Emma's eyes flicker up to his again, she cups his cheeks in her hands and pulls him to her, finding his waiting mouth with hers. This time, the kiss is a little softer, a little more tender than before, but no less urgent. Emma wraps her arms around the back of his neck and presses her body to his as their breaths mingle and quicken, a swirl of passion sweeping through them. With a groan, Killian swiftly draws her into his arms, and she wraps her legs around his hips as he carries her to his bed. He prays his knees will not buckle underneath him as his cock pulsates between their bodies. Their lips are still locked, their eager tongues fighting for dominance as his hands delight in the feeling of the hard muscle underneath her smooth skin. After weeks of hunting, and feeling nothing but the overwhelming loneliness when he lay in his tent and the harshness of the cold nights and occasional freezing rain, it is nice to feel something soft. And her thighs, her stomach, her breasts feel so soft and warm, all negative thoughts escape him, and he almost loses his balance on the way to his bed.

 

They tumble into bed, and she whines in protest when he breaks the kiss to place her against the pillows and lay beside her, using an arm to prop himself up. He leans in, lips brushing against her fragrant hair as he draws in her intoxicating scent and leaves a trail of sweet kisses down her cheek. She turns her head to capture his lips again, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, moving slowly and sweetly as he slides a hand into her hair. She slides closer to him until their knees get in the way, until she’s fitted up against him, breasts pressing firmly into his chest, legs all entwined with his. She feels good, so soft and warm, stroking his scruff-covered cheeks as he lifts a hand to her breast, finally caressing the soft weight under his calloused fingers. His cock twitches as her dainty nipple hardens at his touch and her heart flutters wildly against his palm. He thumbs her nipples and gives each a little squeeze, his eyes scanning her face to catch her flushed skin, her mouth parting as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. "You're an exquisite little thing," he purrs, grinning from ear to ear.

 

Emma tenses when he presses her onto her back, but he keeps kissing her and caressing her hip in soothing strokes to relax her, and she goes limp when he mouths her throat. She’s incredibly responsive after that, especially when his lips caress a sensitive spot behind her ear, which makes her shudder. And when he presses his mouth to the hollow of her collarbone, her body twists up in his grip, her breathing harsh and ragged against his skin.

 

Emma writhes in his arms, soft moans pouring from her lips as he lowers his head and finds one of her breasts, drawing the stiff bud into his waiting mouth, his tongue swirling around the sweet flesh. She arches her back, offering herself to him, and he sucks her nipples until they’re stiff and rosy and she’s squirming and clutching at his shoulders and making little noises. He growls and sucks on her beautiful nipples for a while longer, his tongue making laps around her pretty pink areolas as his hand glides over her stomach.

 

His fingers move down her leg and up her warm inner thigh, gently teasing and caressing her skin. He’s so close to where he wants to be, his body shudders in anticipation as his hand finds her aching core, her nectar coating his fingers like warm honey. His cock hardens to its full potential as he feels how incredibly wet she is, a breathy groan leaving his lips, which is muffled by the beautiful breast occupying his mouth. “Bloody hell." His fingers gently slide along the slit of her cunt in exploratory strokes as he sucks on her nipple, then switches to the other one, indulging in a few more blissful minutes of her sweet taste before releasing her gems.

 

Emma spreads her legs invitingly, whimpering at his touch. He can tell she is getting impatient; he knows he is. But he could do this all night, happily lie here and just taste her lovely mouth and soft skin, and feel her shuddering against him, learning all the ways that make her tick, but she’s pushing back restlessly now, her hands running over his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

 

He chuckles, lifting his head and gets a little distracted by the way her mouth is hanging open, how her bottom lip is swollen from their kisses, and he has to nibble on the pliant flesh before he can go on.

 

“Master," Emma cries, her words cracked with need as she brings her hand to his cock and strokes his length, "please take your insolent slave, lest I burst into flames!"

 

Killian groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he thrusts himself into her touch. "If you continue to tempt me, I may succumb." As he feels her soft, tight walls around his fingers, his tongue aches to taste her flavor; he wants to tongue her into the next world, but like her, he fears he might burst. So instead, he licks her essence from his fingers to sample her taste. Her fragrant nectar is better than the sweetest and most succulent of fruits he's ever tasted, his cock twitching so badly, it's almost painful. Not wishing to leave his swan (or himself) waiting any longer, he climbs atop her and settles in the cradle of her thighs, and she wraps her legs around his hips, offering herself to him. Gods, he can’t wait to be inside his sweet little minx.

 

"Your Majesty, please," she moans, and he's reminded of how she has addressed him all night, how she's addressed him since they met.

 

“Say my name,” he demands roughly, trying to maintain his composure, but his ragged breath gives him away. "I have not heard you murmur it once."

 

"Killian," the strangled word tumbles from her pretty pink lips in a breathy whisper.

 

His hand gropes the curve of her hip as he looms over her, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear. "Say it again, Emma."

 

"Killian."

 

He groans and presses the head of his throbbing cock at her entrance, and she's so wet, he shudders and has to pause and take a breath before moving again. Emma's begging him not to stop, so he continues, pressing his hips into her and plunging past the tight barrier that tries to block him. She gasps as he rocks gently, her walls slowly enveloping his large girth as he moves rhythmically inside her. He's afraid he's too big for her, but soon the mild pain of her walls being stretched around him subsides, turning into blissful pleasure; the evidence is written all over her face as her mouth falls open in pleasure and her eyes glow with relief.

 

“Emma–bloody hell–" He can feel the night’s activities catching up with him, and he’s not going to last much longer. She’s incredibly tight, her walls slick and warm, and she’s making these high pitched moans as he moves inside her.

 

“Killian,” she manages, “harder… please," and there's an incredible urgency in her voice. She hitches a leg further up his hip, changing the angle enough to allow him to sink deeper into her warmth, and he moves at a punishing pace, pounding into her with more vigor. They both groan at the delicious friction.

 

He feels his orgasm quickly falling over him, and knowing he doesn't have much time, he reaches between them; his head is spinning, his body craving desperate release, but he wants to take her with him.

 

She’s slick and wet, his fingers sliding over her clit as he pounds into her relentlessly, matching the rhythm of his fingers against her clit to the rhythm of his hips. As her moans permeate the room, drowning out the music, he's sure the guards can hear their sounds of passion from the other side of the doors.

 

She touches his face as everything falls into place, pushes his hair away and strokes his cheeks. He lowers himself down until she can kiss him, her open mouth on his neck and his ear and his jaw, teeth playfully nibbling him as he thrusts into her. His whole world narrows down to her walls clenched tight and perfect around his cock, and Emma shakes under him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other clawing at his back.

 

He knows she's on the cusp of release when he hauls her leg up over his shoulder and rams into her, worshipping her like the princess she is as he whispers raggedly in her ear, "Say my name again, Emma… I wanna hear my name sing from your beautiful lips as you cum around my cock."

 

"Killian," she sobs in a throaty voice, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks. She’s breathing heavily, and freezes when she flies over the edge, her whole body trembling and her toes curling against the back of his thighs.

 

Her walls flutter around him, pulling him in like a vortex, rough groans crawling from his throat as he surrenders to her warm quim. He fucks her through the aftershocks of her orgasm with sharp, short thrusts as his climax builds higher and higher.

 

"Gods, Emma…" he whispers and finally he succumbs to his goddess, completely losing himself inside her, the world dissolving around him. He buries his lips in her hair, his hips giving into a few final thrusts before stilling, and he pours his seed deep inside her warmth, filling up her walls with a long, thick stream of cum. He not only surrenders his seed to her but also his soul. He adores her and knows this will be far from the last time he will have her in his bed. He shudders at the thought. She is his completely and yet it is he who feels enslaved. His arms give out and he gently collapses into her, his body limp as he nestles his head in the valley of her beautiful breasts

 

Reality reassembles itself one piece at a time. Killian is lying on top of her, breathing heavily, and she is stroking his hair, her heart pounding against his. His manhood softens and he slips out of her and rolls over on his back beside her, a smile taking over his face as he tries to catch his breath. “Emma…” Her name rolls off his tongue in a breathy groan as he tries to get his bearings back. He manages to slip under the covers, and looks over at Emma, waiting for her to join him. She stays a little distant though, her eyes full of hesitance; she’s not sure if she is welcomed to stay in his bed. “Get over here, my little minx,” he practically snarls, but his words are playful and he still has a grin on his face as he stretches an arm out toward her and pats the warm spot beside him with his other hand.

 

She smirks and moves under the covers he’s offering her and shifts on her side, cradled against his body, draping an arm over his stomach. He curls his arm around her slim, little body, her golden hair spreading out behind her, face all flushed and rosy and shy. Emma places gentle, lazy kisses through his chest hair before resting her head on his chest, hearing his heart hammering underneath her ear.

 

After a while, he tilts his head and plants a sweet kiss to her forehead, his breath fanning her skin. “That was exquisite,” he whispers, the words muffled by her forehead.

 

“I am glad you are pleased, My Sultan,” she murmurs, nuzzling her face against the warmth of his body.

 

Killian slowly runs his fingers up and down her arm, caressing her soft skin. “Call me Killian, love.”

 

“Yes, Your Maj-” Emma blushes, her features clouding with apology as she looks up at him. “Yes, Killian.”

 

Hearing his name on her tongue makes his skin tingle. He groans, pulling her closer and brings her chin up to steal a kiss which is meant to be short, but lengthens and increases in heat, Emma’s lithe body, writhing in his arms. His groin stirs with arousal once more, and she pushes him back and climbs atop him, straddling his hips and mounting his cock with her soft, warm walls, rolling her hips to devour more of his length. Killian groans and sits up to scoop her lovely form in his arms as she rides him. As her body moves with his, he sucks on her nipples, and she tilts her head back, murmuring soft curses, her hands clutching his shoulders tightly as they thrust their hips into each other over and over again. He loses himself in her tight sheath once more, both of them finding their imminent demise as the strong waves of pleasure ripple through them, and his body spasms as his seed flows through her like a river.

 

He groans and falls back against the pillows, Emma joining him as she whispers soft endearments in his ear, her arms and legs snaked around him. The soft, golden hair on her folds are damp with a wonderful combination of her sweet nectar and his hot cum as it oozes from her core and onto his thigh, but neither bother to move to wash up the aftermath.

 

He is panting sporadically, his words shattered as he pulls her body snug against him. “Gods, you are magnificent.” His thumb caresses her cheek as he peers down at her. “Were you a gift sent from heaven?”

 

Emma laughs, unable to form words as she rests her head against his chest, waiting for the calmness to wash over them once more. He buries his lips in her hair and breathes in the smell permeating his senses, reveling in the way she feels in his arms, and admits to himself that perhaps he’s in a little over his head. He was not supposed to get this close to anyone again, he didn’t think he had it in him, but with Emma here in his arms, the world suddenly seems to stop, and he feels a contentedness with her he’s only felt with one other woman. The thought of Emma leaving his bed in the morning isn't supposed to make him feel sad or torn up, but it does. He’s usually able to separate sex from emotion, but the adoring protectiveness he already has for Emma is pushing his boundaries; add in the earth-shattering lovemaking they’ve engaged in, and Killian really has no hope. He’s completely doomed. But he's not complaining.

 

~*~

 

Basking in the afterglow of their passion, Emma’s heart races, and her entire skin is buzzing with delight as she indulges in the comfort of the Sultan’s embrace. She can still feel every touch of those strong hands, and the soft caresses of his lips on her body, she can still feel him plunging into her over and over, slowly making her come undone. Her inner walls are thrumming with a satisfaction she's never experienced before, a pleasant ache she'd always thought was a myth. She trembles, just thinking about those brief moments when twice their souls had touched, when they had both surrendered themselves to each other completely. Yes, she hopes she will be with child, but she will gladly keep trying as long as it takes, as much as the Sultan wants her. Emma grins salaciously at the thought. If this is the fate James had spoken of, then she will gladly surrender over and over again and show not a trace of remorse nor resistance. She will gladly endure the future that awaits her.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a Tumbr post, I asked if readers were okay with another smutty chapter and no one seemed to be opposed to the idea, so here we are again, but it’s not entirely smut, only about 75% :) I do have to apologize ahead of time, I’m throwing some religion at you in the beginning, but yeah, actually I’m not really sorry because…. well, you’ll see why ;)
> 
> Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!
> 
> And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

The sacred text of Killian's religion uses many ways to describe heaven and hell. There is the physical heaven or the sky; it's decreed that there are seven levels of sky, or seven heavens, one above the other. The seven heavens are also used in a spiritual sense, they are often referred to as Paradise and are described as beautiful gardens filled with greenery and flowing water. There are several gardens in Paradise and the highest garden is reserved for the most righteous of believers. The Underworld refers to the concept of hell, an afterlife of punishment for evildoers, and is also divided into seven levels, each one more severe than the one above it. The lowest depth of hell is a bottomless abyss reserved for hypocrites and infidels. 

 

Killian can only imagine that being lonely in the highest garden of Paradise is the same as being lonely in the bottomless pit of the Underworld. 

 

The loneliness he had felt since Milah's death had slowly crept in and created a void in his heart, not even his best friend, his mother or sister could fill. That void had been slowly eating away at him, and Killian had feared his heart, his world, would be nothing but emptiness and darkness. That is until Emma appeared in his life. Now his heart blossoms with what he can only describe as love. Yes, he is _in love_ with Emma, his Gozde, and since he has taken her to his bed, she is now his Ikbal.

 

The sacred text paints several descriptive representations of heaven and hell. At one point, Killian had a clear picture in his mind of the difference between heaven and hell, but it was brief, and that vision had disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared to him. Once Milah was gone, he’d come to the conclusion that if he were to spend his life alone, then wherever he goes in the afterlife, heaven or hell, doesn't really matter to him. Either would be the same. But with Emma in his arms, her heavenly body pressed up against his and her lovely limbs entangled with his, he finally knows what it's like to be in the highest garden of Paradise. 

 

He has to peel himself away from her for a moment just to admire her beauty. He takes immense pleasure watching his sleeping minx; there is nothing more bewitching to him, his eyes drinking in every inch of skin not hidden by the silk sheet, which is draped elegantly over her hip. She lies on her side facing him, black kohl smudged against her cheek. The silhouette of her curves leads his gaze over her stomach and over the dip of her belly button. When his eyes reach her firm, beautiful breasts with rose-tipped nipples, he finds it difficult to look away without first kissing each one. But he'd much rather wait until she's awake so he can enjoy and appreciate her reactions. He aches to hear those lovely sounds pour from her lips, he yearns to watch her face light up like a starry night as her body sings in blissful pleasure. His gaze appreciatively roams over her long, slender neck and the outline of her jaw and cheekbones. She undoubtedly reminds him of an angel, with silken smooth skin, soft curves and luscious golden curls splayed over the pillow in disarray. 

 

Brushing his hand over her hip and down her bare leg under the sheet, he loves the way her skin feels beneath his fingertips, so silky and soft like flower petals. As his fingers roam up and down her leg, he can smell the perfume of her sex from the previous night as it still lingers in the air, rousing him. 

 

His angel stirs a little, stretching out like a tigress as she slowly wakes. Arching her back, she presses her body into his, humming softly in content. A low growl tears from his throat as he feels her nipples against his chest hair, his groin stirring to life as he continues to touch her skin. He’s afraid he will never be able to get enough of her. As he strokes her thigh, he lifts his head, whispering in her ear, “Morning love.” He noses her ear lobe, his lips curving into a smirk as he breathes in her scent. “You smell delicious.”

 

Emma smiles, her eyes fluttering open. His heart starts racing when her emerald green eyes pierce into his blue ones. He moves his hand back down her leg toward her knee and throws her leg over his hip before slipping his hand between her thighs. She's soaking wet, which was either caused by him touching her or because she was having pleasant dreams. Judging by her mouth, which opens in pleasure, her flushed cheeks that weren't quite the same shade a moment ago and the desire in her eyes, he believes both to be true. “And so incredibly wet for me.”

 

Emma takes him by surprise when she grabs his face and presses her mouth to his, lazily slipping her tongue into his inviting mouth, her nipples protruding against his skin. He groans, massaging her tongue with his and shifting them, so she is on her back. He pins one of her arms over her head with one hand, and with the other, he holds himself up as he deepens the kiss, threading his fingers through hers. They breathe each other in every time their lips move, and soon his manhood is hard and throbbing against her stomach. Emma parts her creamy thighs, and he settles between them, moving the head of his shaft along her folds as he grinds into his goddess, her nectar coating his length. Everything becomes a pleasant blur, his head spinning as he penetrates her slick warmth.

 

“Oh, God…” she whimpers, her sleep-laced words completely cracked and shattered. 

 

Her legs are wrapped snug around his hips and he’s pounding into her with lazy but persistent thrusts, bringing her at his mercy once more. She moves her hips with his, her walls drawing him in as deep as possible. She feels so good around him, he struggles to keep himself up with one arm. So he releases her hand, using both of his to hold himself above her.

 

She reaches up and pulls his face to hers, kissing him hard on the mouth once more. She sucks on his bottom lip as he moves rhythmically, hitting the right spot inside of her that will soon have her seeing stars. He's on the verge of being there with her. She feels so good, he's about to burst. Lightly biting his lip, she runs her hands over his body, touching everything she can reach, her hands moving to his back and trailing down his spine to his butt, squeezing the firm, muscular flesh in her hands and pressing him into her. 

 

Killian groans and buries his face in her neck, enjoying the feel of her tight walls wrapped around his cock. He’s quickening his pace and soon feeling himself getting closer to his peak. He is completely lost. Lost in their haze of hungry passion. Lost in _her._

 

His lover writhes underneath him as she crescendos, needy moans singing from her lips as the waves of pleasure roll through her body. Killian can feel it, her walls tightening around him, pulling him in deeper. His eyes are fluttering shut as he feels his body tense. A raspy groan crawls from the back of his throat as his seed bursts inside of his lovely goddess, his hips slamming into her a few more times before stilling. His erection receding, his cock slips out of her and he slumps into her, using his strength to hold him up a bit so he doesn't crush her as he buries his face in her lovely breasts, using them as soft cushions. Her heart is pounding in his ear as she combs her hands through his hair, both of them trying to breathe again. He stays like that for a while and enjoys kissing this beautiful woman, running his fingers along her naked curves. Sleep once again grips them and they fall into a peaceful slumber. 

 

~*~

 

When Emma wakes again from a wispy sleep, she feels content and satisfied; she doesn’t wish to move but knows she must get back to the women’s quarters. The Sultan is still sleeping, so she quietly and carefully disentangles her body from his and sits up on the edge of the bed. Her thighs are still wet from their activities and she bites her bottom lip as the memories of last night and early morning flood her mind. God, why does he have to affect her like this? She could’ve easily gone without these feelings blooming in her chest, but Killian has awakened something inside of her, and she doesn’t hate it. In fact, she rather enjoys the rush of euphoria and pure bliss flowing through her veins. She doesn't want it to end.

 

Emma’s sleepy eyes wander around the room in search of her clothes, but before she can stand from the bed to fetch them, a pair of strong arms are wrapping around her from behind. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going, love?” he asks, pushing her golden tresses away from her face to shower her cheek and ear with soft kisses.

 

Emma laughs as his beard tickles her skin. “Custom demands I return to the harem by dawn.” As the words leave her lips, she regrets them, her heart aching at the thought of leaving him, and despite her words, her body melts into his touch.

 

Killian growls, “As the Sultan, I demand you stay.” Before Emma can protest, he takes her hand and pulls her in his arms where he lays against the mattress so she’s lying atop him. 

 

Emma does not bother to argue. “Well if my Sultan demands it, then I must obey.” 

 

He responds by retracting a hand from her body and swatting her bottom, making her moan in delight. "You're mine," he growls playfully in her ear and squeezes her butt firmly in his grip. "All mine."

 

She giggles, actually _giggles,_ for probably the first time in a very long while.

 

“Mmmm, that is my favorite sound,” he murmurs against her ear as he presses a kiss there. 

 

Emma’s entire body tingles, her skin still very sensitive after her three orgasms. “What’s that?” she asks, closing her eyes to relish the feel of his lips as he leaves a trail of kisses from behind her ear to the crook of her neck.

 

He lowers his head against the pillow and gazes up at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “Your laugh,” he answers, a smile overtaking his lips. “It’s music to my ears.”

 

The sincerity of his words sends her heart soaring. Emma finds herself grinning from ear to ear as her fingers stroke his scruff covered cheek. He kisses her lips sweetly and softly, his hand sliding through her hair. 

 

“Please stay, my swan."

 

“Again, my Sultan? I don't know if I am physically able,” she laughs.

 

“No, love, it's been three full moons since the last time I've been with a woman and I could go several more rounds with you,” he says quirking a brow suggestively, “but in all honesty, I would rather simply spend time with you, if that's what you wish too, of course.” His expression saddens, his eyes darkening a bit. “I cannot bear for you to leave my presence yet.”

 

Emma can hear the pain in his words. The thought of her leaving him might break him. And in all honesty, she doesn’t wish to go. She nods, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ll stay.”

 

A grin takes over his entire face and he kisses her once more. Emma presses her body against his, seeking his tongue with hers and writhing in his arms.

 

“You keep that up and you're going to make me hard again,” he growls, and Emma’s smirking, not opposed to the idea. But they know they must stop before things become heated between them again. Emma wants to be able to walk again when she has to leave his bedchamber. 

 

So, they get up, and Killian puts on his robe before calling for a slave to bring a robe for Emma, some fruit juice and sweet cakes. He also tells them to send a message to Mother Superior letting her know that Emma will be staying with him for the morning. He takes her robe and drapes the silk fabric over her shoulders and presses a kiss to her cheek.

 

“Come, love, join me on the terrace,” he beckons, extending his hand. 

 

She slips her hand in his, allowing him to lead her outside, and he sits on the couch, pulling her into his lap. The servants give them odd looks as they serve them food and drinks, but they do not dare say a word and are quickly dashing away, bowing their heads.

 

As the sun rises against the colorfully painted sky, a soft breeze sweeps around them. The air is the perfect temperature, especially for being only dressed in robes, and any coolness the wind brings them only means they have to snuggle closer for warmth. 

 

They eat the sweet cakes and drink from their chalices in peace, basking in the sun and the other’s embrace. Emma doesn’t remember the last time she has felt this content.

 

When they are finished eating, the servants take away the trays and leave them be. Emma and Killian remain on the couch where they chat and adore each other's company.

 

“My ancestors, the former sultans… they all murdered their half brothers or commanded it, so they would not feel threatened when they took the throne,” Killian murmurs, his hand caressing her arm as he holds her. “Liam and I both had the same father and mother. Maybe that's why we were close, but we made a promise when we were young that the throne would never come between us. If he were alive today, he would not have to be threatened by me. My family is more important than being sultan.”

 

Emma turns her head to peer up at him. She can see the wreckage in his eyes and knows he is telling the truth.

 

“When I have sons, I want them to be close like Liam and I were.”

 

She arches a brow in curiosity. Is he implying he wants the same mother for all of his sons? Or does that bond include half brothers too?

 

“Maybe that makes me less of a man in the eyes of my father,” he sighs deeply.

 

Emma shakes her head. “I don't think it would. It makes you honorable, and as power hungry as your father was, do you really think he wanted his sons to murder each other for the throne?”

 

“Aye, power makes us do unfathomable things. My father was once a good man… then he turned into a monster when his seat of the throne was threatened. I’m just afraid…” the words die in his throat and he swallows thickly.

 

Emma lifts her hand, soothing his cheek. “Tell me, what are you afraid of?”

 

He peers down at her, smiling weakly. “I’m afraid this power I have will change me, too.”

 

Emma is stunned he is opening up to her so much. “I don’t think that will happen. As long as you focus on what’s important to you, nothing will be able to change your heart.” Her words are soft and seem to comfort him as he cradles her hand with his and closes his eyes, just appreciating her kindness and the feel of her hand on his cheek.

 

Emma regales him with stories of her childhood to lighten the mood, and they spend the rest of the morning talking and laughing and just enjoying the other’s presence, trying not to think about the inevitable. Emma has to go back to the harem eventually, but neither is delighted by the idea, so they are determined to soak up as much time together as they possibly can.

 

Killian is unable to restrain himself from touching her though, kneading her skin under the robe. Emma feels his hand wander down her body and she gladly welcomes his advances. He pulls on the belt of her robe and the material falls open, exposing her midsection. Even though they’re outside, no one can actually see them, there are only his garden, the ocean and the sky in the distance. Killian strokes her breasts, and Emma succumbs to his touch, her body melting into his. She reclines back into his chest, parting her thighs slightly as her folds dampen with arousal. His touch feels so heavenly, even after their prior activities, she can’t get enough of those wonderful, strong hands, how they massage and tease her skin, how they grip her just enough to make her feel wanted and loved, but not enough to hurt her. He moves his hands over her stomach and her thighs, making her utterly weak once more. His fingers glide over her nub and it feels so good, Emma braces herself against his hand. Slowly he moves his fingers a little further until he finds her slit. She is incredibly wet. 

 

He sinks his fingers inside her heat just enough to get the tips of them wet with her nectar and he slides them into his mouth to taste her.

 

He loves the way she tastes. She can feel him harden beneath her. His hands return to her thighs and he takes his time running his fingers over her slit, sinking his digits inside her. Soon she's slowly thrusting her hips, riding his fingers, soft moans pouring from her lips.

 

As he's stroking and kissing her and fingering her, he whispers gently in her ear, “I want to replace my fingers with my tongue,” he groans, flicking his thumb over her clit. “I want to taste you, darling. May I?” 

 

Emma gasps at the thought of him using his tongue on her. She has no idea what that would feel like, but at this point, she is so lost in pleasure she's willing to let him do whatever he wants to her. She doesn't hesitate to nod her head. 

 

Carefully he removes his hand from her core and lifts her from his lap and onto the couch. He repositions himself, sliding down to the ground and kneeling in front of her between her legs where he can access her. He opens up her robe more and kisses one of her nipples, which hardens underneath the soft caress of his lips. Emma cards her hands through his hair, unable to close her eyes or look away. She loves how sweet and gentle he is with her. She also likes when he's rough with her, but mostly she loves how he treats her. Her time with him has not been all about him, but her as well. About both of them getting caught up in one other. Of all the things she had expected from the previous evening, she hadn't expected this. 

 

He moves to the other breast, kissing the stiff bud with the same tenderness and affection. He suckles her nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud before releasing it. He slowly moves down her body, leaving a trail of soft kisses in his wake, appreciating every inch of her skin on the way to her aching core. He takes her hips in his hands, pulling her to the edge of the couch and kisses her inner thigh. When he looks up at her, cerulean blue eyes shining with desire and perhaps even love, Emma shudders under his gaze, her face becoming flushed. Of all the men who have feasted their eyes upon her, none of them were as sincere or loving or kind as this man is now. His gaze alone sets her skin ablaze. 

 

She takes a deep breath and continues to watch as he kisses her nub and then her folds. Emma spreads her legs wider for him, her arms the only thing keeping the robe on at this point as she lets them fall to her sides, exposing most of her body, and she can feel the warm autumn breeze sweeping over her. Her folds are glistening in the sun, waiting for him, and he licks his lips in anticipation as his eyes hungrily feast upon her.

 

Curling his arms under her thighs, he hauls her legs over his shoulders and leans in, running his tongue along her folds. Emma moans, her body melting into the couch. He groans and moves her blonde curls out of the way, opening her up with his fingers and sinking his tongue inside her warmth. 

 

Her whole body shudders. 

 

His tongue is exquisitely soft and warm and she grows wetter by the second as he takes his time stroking and flicking his tongue inside of her over and over. He can taste her flavor and his own come, a heady mixture of tang and salt on his tongue.

 

Moaning and writhing above him, she moves her hands through his hair, not forcing him into her, just indulging the feeling of his head between her thighs. “Killian…” she manages, her voice completely wrecked and shattered. She can feel her orgasm building deep within her and encourages him, not wanting him to stop. 

 

And he doesn't, his tongue is too focused on giving her unimaginable pleasure, and at one point he reaches a hand to her breast and squeezes the soft weight and pinches her nipple. 

 

He fondles her breasts, continuously switching from one to the other, his fingers pinching her pink buds while flicking his tongue against the pink bud in his mouth. He gives her a long broad lick and sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over and over, moving it back and forth. She is close to exploding right there on the terrace couch, the pleasure is overwhelming, and he is intent on sending her over the edge. 

 

She tugs on his hair, her body singing in pleasure, a slew of praises tumbling from her lips. The sensations overtaking her are becoming too much and she knows she's on the cusp of another orgasm. The feeling is all too familiar to her now. She starts to move her hips against his mouth, craving for more of what he's doing to her. Her excitement increases dramatically and she wants to come. _Badly._ She wants to come all over his face as he brings her to her mind-numbing demise. 

 

She is so soft, and her nectar tastes so sweet and exquisite on his tongue, he doesn't want to stop. But he knows she's on the cusp of climaxing in his mouth. As much as he wants to continue, he also wants to give her sweet release. He's torn. He’s sucking her clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue rapidly over her hard bud and slipping a finger into her heat, and then another. She is so slick, it takes no effort to move his fingers inside of her. 

 

He can tell she's slipping into the next dimension as he’s feasting on her, fingering her and fondling her breasts, all in a similar rhythm and speed. It's a lethal combination and it's enough to bring her to the edge. 

 

Her body starts to tense and he looks up at her, watching his goddess, glorying the way her head falls back, lips slightly parted as she moans, her face and chest all flushed and rosy, golden hair cascading over her shoulders in the sun. She is so beautiful and lovely like this. He doesn't want this to end, but continues to lick up her sweet flavor and suck on her pink pearl while moving his fingers in and out of her warmth. Increasing his speed, he brings her higher and higher until her whole body convulses and she arches her back, letting out a deep moan the entire palace can probably hear as she orgasms in his mouth, her lovely ambrosia coating his chin and cheeks. Her body trembles for a moment as the rush of her climax washes over her. He feels both of her hands on the sides of his face, pulling him up toward her, and he obeys, touching his forehead to hers.

 

She whispers her thanks and kisses him roughly, tasting herself on her lips. When they break for air, he stands before her, stretching out his legs and licking his lips and fingers. The sight alone makes her whimper. His robe is open, exposing his lean torso, well-muscled thighs and his hard, aching cock which springs from a patch of dark curls. His length glistens in the sun with her nectar from their earlier activities, and her mouth salivates. She can't wait to taste him. 

 

She reaches for him and strokes his rather large erection, feeling the tip of him and wipes the precum around the velvety head and down his shaft with her thumb. _God,_ he feels good in her hand, her core surges with warmth and she’s clenching her thighs together to suppress her excitement. She doesn't think she can take him again so soon anyway, she's still aching and pleasantly sore. “How is that, My Sultan?” 

 

“Gods,” he groans, his hips rutting into her touch. “So good.”

 

She stands and kisses him deeply, moving her hand up and down his length, keeping him hard. It's her turn to take control. Though she wants to guide him to her entrance and feel his gorgeous cock inside her once more, soreness be damned, she strongly fights the urge.

 

She’s on her knees before he has a chance to protest, which she's sure he wouldn't if he could, lightly suckling his velvety head and taking his slick cock in her waiting mouth. She moans around his length, tasting the saltiness of his precum and the tanginess of her own nectar on his shaft. 

 

Now, Emma may not have experience in this department, but she's seen erotic paintings of women in this same position, taking their men with their mouths. Judging by the way Killian’s mouth falls open when she’s peering up at him, the drawn-out groans crawling from his throat and the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he slides his hands through her hair, she knows she must be doing something right. So she uses his reactions as her guide; the more positive his response, the more she increases the particular ministration. 

 

She licks up and down his length and draws him in her mouth again—the thing he seems to respond to with the most enthusiasm—repeating this action over and over, and soon he’s moving his hips toward her, seeking more friction. He never takes his eyes off her and their eyes are locked in a heated gaze as he cradles her jaw in his hands, not forcing her on him, just delighting the way her muscles move every time she draws him into her mouth as he watches his cock disappear past her lips. She quickens the pace and takes him deeper, as deep as she can, and since his cock is big, not that she has anything to compare it to other than what she has seen in paintings, she can’t quite fit him all the way in her mouth, so she uses her hand, pumping him lightly to compensate. Soon, he’s singing his praises as his muscles convulse, and his seed pours into her mouth. Emma moans in delight at tasting what he has been pouring inside of her both that morning and last night. She swallows it down, savoring the salty flavor on her tongue and the way his sticky cum slides down her throat.

 

Killian's legs are shaking underneath him, so they return to the couch. He holds her in his arms, both of them taking a while to relax and compose themselves, luxuriating in the aftermath of their love. Eventually, they stand up and play two games of chess on the terrace. The first, she plays cautiously, thinking he might let her win again, but she only sets up her own failure and loses. She takes the second round from him with reckless abandon, and he laughs as she checks his queen.

 

“I have never been beaten by a woman at chess, love, you are the only one with such a privilege.”

 

“Well, you should get used to being beaten by me,” she says with a smirk.

 

“We shall see about that,” he teases playfully. He stands from his seat, pulling her into his arms and kissing her breathlessly, but they both know there is truth in her words; he very much has his hands full with this one, and not just literally. Emma turns in his arms and they both stare out over the sea, just enjoying each other’s warmth and presence.

 

The morning is quite like a dream and neither wish to wake, but eventually Mother Superior sends a servant for her, pulling them back to reality.

 

Killian actually pouts, much like a ten-year-old boy does when playtime is over. He has to get back to his imperial duties, but he’d much rather spend the entire day with her. He dreads parting ways with her as they both dress in the clothes they had worn the evening prior.

 

“Will you return tonight?” he asks hopefully as they reach the door where Nemo is waiting for Emma. Killian's eyes adore her as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in the crook of her neck, peppering sweet kisses over her skin.

 

“You have to officially summon me,” she laughs, and at the same time does not want to leave his embrace at all.

 

He lifts his head, smirking suggestively, causing Emma’s cheeks to burn crimson. “You will be summoned.”

 

Her heart flutters at the promise. “Good.”

 

Before she knows what’s happening, he swoops her up in his arms and strides over the threshold, carrying her down the hall. Nemo follows behind them, baffled but hiding a small smirk. Emma is both surprised and amused as he actually carries her to her suite. The guards do not dare to flinch.

 

“You know I can walk with my own two feet,” she whispers in a mild attempt of protest.

 

“I know, swan, but I’d much rather carry you.”

 

The maidens of the harem all gasp when he appears with her in his arms, and they immediately stop what they’re doing and bow their heads as Killian carries Emma upstairs and into her chamber. She is swooning when he puts her down, and it’s only partly caused by the flight.

 

“I will see you tonight, my princess,” he bids her farewell. 

 

Just when Emma thinks she cannot possibly melt anymore than she already has, he presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and she’s surprised she is not a puddle of water by the time he leaves her. To think, she had been so nervous prior to their evening together, but now she is floating in blissful happiness, carefree as a bird soaring through the sky.

 

After he’s gone, Emma stands on her terrace and gazes over the sea, appreciating the pleasant afternoon breeze. Still high on the euphoria flooding through her veins, she thinks about his kisses and soft caresses, growing warm at the memories. She begins to wonder if she is in love or if she is simply wanton. But she knows she had enjoyed more than the physical aspect of their time together, so perhaps she is both. But her reality is shattered when it occurs to her that the power she has over him may only be temporary. Even if she becomes pregnant with his child, he will eventually have to seek out another concubine to take to his bed. Women are forbidden from engaging in intercourse while they are pregnant, for they may hurt the baby and have a miscarriage. And Killian may have waited three full moons for her, but nine, give or take? There is no way a Sultan as young and healthy as he is will wait that long. Tears prick her eyes at the thought. 

 

Even with the power she has now and the power she will gain as his wife, she will have to accept the fact that he may eventually summon one of the other concubines, and possibly one of her friends, one who may bear him another child and become his Kadin as well. She will have to be happy with this and pretend as though it doesn't hurt painfully. But the mere thought is suffocating. As a woman who has grown up in the western part of the world, she was taught monogamy and was raised by her parents with the belief that there is only one person for everyone, and if they are lucky, one true love. As a young girl, she could not have fathomed the idea that one man could have four wives. The thought makes her heart constrict, but she knows she will have to find a way to accept this.

 

Emma leaves the terrace and heads to her private bath where her bath attendants remove her clothing, sponge her with warmed, perfumed water, and place a robe over her shoulders. Dismissing them, she returns to her chamber, relaxing upon her couch.

 

“You returned late," Elsa comments with a smirk and plops down next to her. “How was your time with him?”

 

Emma blushes, a blissful smile overtaking her lips. “It was….” she pauses, not knowing exactly how to describe it in words, “it was magical, I suppose. He was kind and sweet and… he took care of me.” Her cheeks burn red as she tries to explain her night with the Sultan without giving too much away.

 

Elsa beams, her eyes flickering with excitement. “I'm so happy for you,” she replies, and Emma knows her friend is being sincere. If there is anyone Emma can trust in the harem, it's Elsa. They talk some more and then Elsa returns to her oda, allowing Emma to take a nap. 

 

A few hours later, she receives the summons from the Sultan, and her friends and some other maidens gather around the Ikbal excitedly in her suite. They sit around the couch and cushions, gushing as they ask her about her evening with the Sultan and are served sherberts, fresh fruit and coffee. 

 

Emma doesn’t go into too much detail, but she is smiling the entire time, her eyes twinkling with pride and admiration as she speaks of her time with him. 

 

“Do you think you will become pregnant with his prince?” Anna asks curiously.

 

Emma pats her belly and blushes. “I have no way of knowing that yet, but I am hopeful.”

 

The Chief Eunuch comes bearing gifts for Emma from the Sultan, in honor of their first night together, silencing the pleasant chatter and giggles.

 

“My lady, most blessed and fortunate, I bring you gifts from our Lord, Sultan Killian. May he live a thousand years! He sends these tokens of his affection for you and asks that you join him this evening at the ninth hour.”

 

The Eunuch presents her with many gifts—bags of gold coins, beautiful shawls and jewelry he had made himself, because, like all Neverland Sultans, he has many skills. She receives some gold bracelets, a necklace, matching earrings and a heart-shaped ruby ring that she slips proudly on her finger, admiring it reverently with wide eyes and a soft smile. She is overwhelmed with emotions, still feeling their several encounters of passion deep in her bones, the excitement of the moment and the possibilities of the future. Her fear of him taking another concubine is temporarily forgotten. Another eunuch accompanies Nemo and presents her with an elaborate treasure chest with more gifts, including beautiful clothing, hairbrushes and much more. Emma is stunned and speechless by the Sultan’s generosity.

 

“Tell our gracious lord his slave thanks him for these lovely gifts and I shall obey his command and join him at the ninth hour this evening.” She knows he doesn’t consider her as a slave, but she also knows it’s better to keep that to herself.

 

The Eunuchs bow and leave Emma's suite. Her friends seem happy for her, though Merida brutally reminds her this may only be temporary and the Sultan will eventually summon another maiden; Emma wonders if she is hiding her jealousy. Elsa, however, scolds the redhead and tells her not to spoil this moment, but Emma knows Merida is right. She must not let this all go to her head, because it can all be taken from her as quickly as it had appeared. 

 

Nevertheless, Emma will always remember her first time with Sultan, the night she had given him her maidenhood, with a twinkle in her eye and a blissful smile on her face.

 


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back and we'll be moving along a little more quickly and getting closer to resolving things I know some you are anxious to see resolved. This chapter is just the beginning of that process. I'm excited to post this chapter, and all I have to say is not everything is as it seems, unless I've made it too obvious, then it's exactly as it seems. Ya'll just need to trust me, okay?

“How was your night with the maiden Emma, Your Majesty?”

 

Killian looks up at James from their chess game. He must have noticed Killian’s big smile has been cemented on his face since the moment he left his precious swan. “It was…” He’s uncertain how to describe his night with her in words. It was easily the best night of his life and he wishes he could revisit it repeatedly. His grin widens, and he stares wistfully at James as he awaits an answer. “It was magnificent,” Killian finally answers, but it’s an understatement. “Being inside her, being _with_ her is like being in paradise.”

 

James shifts uneasily, his features contorting as he clears his throat and picks up a game piece, considering his next move on the board. “I’m glad to hear, Your Majesty.” He smiles, but Killian can tell it’s a bit contrived. 

 

He studies his friend suspiciously. “What is it?”

 

James’ eyes widen at the question as he meets Killian’s gaze. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just—I have some news to share with you. But I didn’t know if I should wait and tell you or not. I didn’t want to pull you down from your cloud of bliss.”

 

Killian raises a brow at him, his smile fading as he waves his hand for James to speak. “Please tell me.”

 

A grin takes over James’ face, and this time it’s more natural than before. “Your Majesty, Ruby is with child.”

 

Killian’s lips pull into a smile again, a smile that lights up his entire face, and he stands from his seat, walking around the chess table. James takes his cue and stands, letting Killian pull him into a hug. “Congratulations to the both of you.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty. The baby will be born in May.”

 

Killian is elated by the news as they pull away from the hug. He is happy James is starting a family. He only wants the best for his friend. In fact, he has made a decision regarding James’ future. James has been loyal for a long time, so Killian has a promotion in mind for his friend and confidant.

 

Killian fears if he were to leave the world too soon, his half brother, Declan, would swoop in to seize the throne. His throne will always be threatened as long as Declan is alive. If Killian were unable to defend his throne, even if he had sired a son, his Grand Vizier would take over his role and guide the prince before he is old enough to take over the duties of the empire. Gepetto, the current Grand Vizier has also been very loyal, but he is very old and does not stand a chance against a threat to the throne. He will retire soon, so Killian has to choose a strong leader who will protect his future son and guide him before he can take over the duties as Sultan. The rest of Killian’s viziers are all new, for he had banished all of his father’s men. They were corrupt and could not be trusted. Killian has turned over many rocks since taking over the throne and unearthed many secrets of his father’s that have proved to Killian once again, his father was not a good man.

 

No, there is only one man Killian trusts above all, and that man is James. He will make him Grand Vizier. 

 

~*~

 

The next several weeks are a pleasant blur for Emma. The Sultan summons her every night and only her. She happily complies, and most nights, they are both wrapped up in a passionate embrace and left breathless, picking up the shattered pieces of themselves. They’ve made love on every surface possible in his bedchamber; they’ve made love on the divan, on his desk, the floor and the low table by his bed. They’ve also made it past the terrace and made love in the garden, and one night they snuck off to the pool and made love in the water. They’ve only been caught twice by some servants who immediately scurried away, blushing profusely when they saw Emma and Killian naked and consumed in the thrall of their passion.

 

The physical aspect of their relationship certainly isn’t lacking anything. Both are always left completely satisfied and content afterward, but they also spend much of their time engaged in chess, simple conversation and getting to know one another. They talk about their pasts and the people close to them. Emma shares details about her friendship with Elsa and tells him how close they’ve become since they arrived at the palace. Killian talks about James a lot and how they became friends. He was sold to the Jewel of the Realm when Killian was young, and since then they’ve stuck together through some very dark times. 

 

The Sultan also tells her how James got the scar on his cheek. A lonely old widow owned James after he was taken from his family, and she’s the one who took a knife to his cheek when he wouldn’t obey a command. Emma feels terrible for what her uncle went through, but she is glad Killian has found a friend in him and treats him well. He talks about the adventures they’ve had, but she can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if James were never taken and remained in Misthaven. Would he have been king? Would he and David get along?

 

She wants to tell Killian that James is her uncle but she’s conflicted. She’s not sure what the Sultan will do. Will he be mad and banish one of them from the palace, or will he be understanding about it? Emma likes to think he would only be happy about this knowledge, but she doesn’t wish for anything to happen to James if it angered Killian. So she keeps her relationship with him to herself, at least for the time being.

 

Killian tells her frequently how she casts a light over his darkness, and she doesn’t wish to be the cause of that darkness. She doesn’t want what they have to change. 

 

Every single time they’re together, he treats her with courtesy and compassion; he respects her opinions, her mind, her body and he completely adores her. When the day wears him down, she can flip his mood around with only her presence. She can ease his mind with a kiss or excite him with her dancing. She brings a smile to his face with her laughter, soothes his soul with her wisdom and his body with her hands. 

 

Killian expresses to her on various occasions that not only is she his lover but also his friend. Her heart always warms at the sentiment. The Sultan doesn’t confide in many people or look to them for advice, except for James, but Killian enjoys reaching out to Emma about court politics since he knows she is shrewd beyond her years with experience and has an innate grasp of the intricacies of these matters. She’s also not afraid to call him out when he is wrong about something. Nor does he feel threatened or angered by her for doing so. In fact, he finds it rather refreshing and is quite open to it. He isn’t ashamed to go to a woman for advice. 

 

She has opened a brand new world to him, just as he has done for her. 

 

He also isn’t ashamed to join the maidens of his harem for dinner to get to know them. This is unheard of in Neverland society, but after the initial surprise, the women are accepting of it (apart from Merida, who remains dubious of him). And this way, they don’t feel left out, even though Emma is the only one he calls to his bed. He grows quite fond of Elsa, just as Emma has, and she can’t help but worry about the Sultan calling on her next. It frightens Emma to her core, no matter how much she tries to accept this possibility.

 

The Neverland nights grow colder and November quickly arrives, but Emma’s blood never appears. She thinks nothing of it until one morning when she wakes up feeling ill. She carefully sneaks out of the Sultan’s bed while he sleeps, and looks at her reflection in the mirror. She notices immediately how pale she is and doesn’t wish for Killian to see her like this. Though he’s seen her in worse conditions, she doesn’t want him to worry. She softly knocks on the door, so as not to wake him, and Nemo escorts Emma to her suite and sends for the doctor.

 

When Emma finds out she is with child, she is full of emotions. She’s overjoyed but also sad. She doesn’t want her time with the Sultan to end. She loves him too much. She loves him so much it hurts. A tear slides down her cheek, even as Elsa is clapping her hands in excitement. 

 

“Emma, aren’t you happy? You will soon be the Master’s Kadin.”

 

“I am happy, but what if Merida is right? What if the Sultan tosses me aside when he finds out?” Emma’s heart tightens at the thought, tears pricking her eyes. “I’m not sure I can handle it!” Emma cries for the first time she has been to the palace. “I love him, Elsa, I cannot bear him to take another maiden.” Her heart stings as the truth comes rushing to the surface, tears falling down her cheeks. 

 

“Oh, Emma…” Elsa scoops her up into her arms, letting Emma cry into her shoulder. Elsa holds her tightly, whispering soft words of reassurance, taking some of the burden off of Emma’s shoulders.

 

Maybe it’s her emotions from being pregnant or maybe she has concluded she cannot accept the Sultan, _her_ Sultan may take another to his bed. It feels like an act of betrayal. It feels worse than Graham’s betrayal. 

 

That evening before Emma is to go to Killian, his mother invites her and Elsa to her suite to celebrate Emma’s pregnancy. She’s a bit surprised, to say the least as they enter Kira’s suite. She and Elsa are dressed in their best clothes, Emma is wearing one of the outfits and the jewelry Killian had given her. The pelisse Emma is wearing hides the small swell of her belly as she rests her hand there. 

 

She’s not very far along, but she already feels protective of her baby. And truthfully, she doesn’t care if the tiny human growing inside her is a boy or a girl. She will love her child either way. She hopes Killian will too; she has a feeling he will, by the way he had spoken of having children. He wants a family, not barbaric sons who will rival for the throne, so it makes no difference if their child is a boy or a girl. 

 

Emma will become Kadin, and if she has a daughter, her position will remain intact for the time being. She has no doubt she will retain his favor once she has a boy, but that doesn’t mean Kira or someone else won’t try to convince him otherwise. Kira sent Nemo to acquire four wives for Killian, not one, so Emma knows his mother will not rest until she has four grandsons from four different mothers so Emma cannot influence the Sultan. The more power Emma has, the more Kira will feel threatened. 

 

Emma is not exactly sure what to expect by accepting Kira’s invitation, but when she sees her, the woman’s eyes light up and she opens her arms. “Come and sit beside me, my dear daughter.”

 

Emma swallows thickly as she and Elsa make their way over. Regina is on the other side of Kira, her eyes shooting invisible daggers at Emma. She guesses Regina doesn’t like anyone competing for her mother’s affections.

 

Kira kisses Emma’s cheek, cupping her face in her hands, saying prayers to the soon to be mother and her child. “I am delighted with your news. May the child be strong and healthy.” The woman gazes at Emma in admiration, a vast contrast to how she has treated her before.

 

Emma bows her head. “Thank you, my Sultana.”

 

They gather around on cushions at a low table, laid with sherbert, melons and sweet desserts. 

 

“Have you told my son he is to be a father?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, I have not, my Sultana. But he has summoned me for this night, so I will tell him when I go to him.”

 

Kira nods in approval. “Very well. The news will overjoy him.” She gestures to her maids. “My daughter, I have some gifts for you.”

 

The maids present her with many beautiful fabrics.

 

“I will make the fabrics of your choice into maternity clothes, for when you grow big with child.”

 

Emma smiles weakly when she looks over them. 

 

_When she is big and lonely and the sultan has another maiden to bring him pleasure._

 

Kira must sense Emma’s sadness as she studies her in concern. She gently takes Emma’s chin in her hand, urging her to lift her eyes. “Do not worry, my daughter, Killian may summon you no more after tonight, but you have motherhood to look forward to, and that is more important. And if you have a girl, you may return to his bed.”

 

Regina scoffs before taking a sip of her sherbert.

 

Kira scowls at her. “Is there a problem, Regina?”

 

“Why must you console her? Not long ago she was breaking the rules and rightfully thrown in the dungeon. She is a mere slave. Now, she has my brother and you wrapped around her dainty little finger. She hasn’t even had the baby yet, and you treat her as though she is your real daughter.”

 

Kira becomes outraged by Regina’s words. “How dare you speak to me like that? You may be my daughter, but you do not have the right. Emma is your brother’s Kadin now, so you are to treat her as such.”

 

Emma is shocked Kira is speaking up for her.

 

“She is _not_ his Kadin yet. I hope she is poisoned like Milah was.”

 

With those words, Regina rises and storms out of the room.

 

Kira and Elsa are mortified. Emma is mortified.

 

“Please excuse my daughter, she has apparently misplaced her manners.”

 

Kira stands up and follows after Regina.

 

“Wow. Regina does not like you,” Elsa says to Emma quietly. “Maybe she feels threatened by you?”

 

Emma shrugs, fear rippling through her, but she maintains a casual demeanor. Now that Emma will be Kadin, she will have new enemies and must watch her back at every turn so she doesn’t end up like Milah.

 

A few minutes later, Kira returns and sighs as she reclaims her seat next to Emma. “Please do not mind my brat of a daughter. She did not mean what she said.”

 

Emma knows she did, though.

 

“She is just bitter, that’s all. She had a husband many years ago.”

 

Emma lifts a brow and turns to look at Kira. “What happened to him, if you don’t mind me asking, my Sultana?”

 

“He became very ill and died. Regina was with child, but she lost the baby. The doctors say she can never carry a child to term.”

 

“Oh,” Emma says faintly.

 

“It doesn’t excuse her for misbehaving, though. She doesn’t like any concubines who rise through the ranks. She feels threatened by them. She can never be Sultan, and any wife of Killian’s will have more power than her. And she cannot stomach the idea.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

“You must not worry, my child.” Kira takes Emma’s hand in hers. “My son will purchase the best taste testers and personal bodyguards there are and we will take extra precautions in the palace. I am the one who encouraged my son to sire a child, so it is my duty to make sure that happens. We must protect your son or daughter at all costs.”

 

Emma nods, but somehow she doesn’t feel comforted by those words.

 

“Now go to my son and tell him. You will have this last night with him.”

 

Emma’s eyes prick with tears as she manages a nod. “Yes, my Sultana.”

 

~*~

 

Emma goes to Killian with a swarm of emotions rushing through her. She doesn’t know exactly how this evening will go. He will be delighted with the news of course, but what will happen after tonight? She has no idea, and that scares the hell out of her. She slowly exhales as the doors open and she steps inside Killian’s bedchamber. He is waiting for her at his desk. His eyes brighten when he sees her, a big smile overtaking his face. 

 

He stands and strides over to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. Her heart fills with warmth as she feels his soft lips on her skin. “I’ve missed you, my love. When I woke, you were not in my arms or my bed. Are you alright?”

 

Emma nods and offers a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine. I was only feeling under the weather.” She debates about whether she should tell him now or later. But she deems it better to rip the bandaid off now, rather than let a million questions she has, linger inside her. She takes his hand and moves his open palm to her belly as she maintains eye contact with him. “I am with child, my Sultan.”

 

Killian’s eyes widen, his sparkling blue depths pooling with emotion. He peers down at her belly and drops to his knees, pushing her skirts away until her stomach is bare. “Emma,” he whispers against her skin, his lips and hands caressing her belly. “My little love.” He moves his hands to her hips and makes a trail of sweet kisses down her slightly protruding belly. Emma closes her eyes, enjoying the way his lips feel on her skin, so soft and warm. This isn’t supposed to feel erotic, this is supposed to be a beautiful moment between a father and his unborn child, but Emma feels a stir of desire for him. She can’t help it. Killian is good and gentle and loving. Being with him makes her rethink everything in life. 

 

Killian’s hands move up her sides as he continues to kiss her belly, and Emma runs her hands through his hair, enjoying his gentle words as he whispers sweet nothings to her stomach. When he rises, she can see the love he has for her in his eyes. The love he has for _them._ She doesn’t want that love to fade; she doesn’t want what they have to end. 

 

She wants to capture this moment forever. She wants to capture all of his kisses and touches and sweet words forever. She never wants to lose the affection he has for her. She basks in these moments of happiness, for she does not know when she will lose them.

 

Emma’s not sure if it’s her pregnancy hormones or the depth of her love for him that overflows her body with emotions, but the thought of losing him overwhelms her completely, and she weeps. 

 

Killian’s expression clouds with concern and genuine worry as he cups her cheek in his hand, using this thumb to wipe away her tears. “What is wrong, my love?”

 

Emma shakes her head. She can’t possibly tell him what troubles her. She can’t be so selfish. She feels so foolish and stupid for crying. She wants the father of her child to be happy and if that means he must take another woman to his bed then she must accept this.

 

“Please tell me, heart of my heart.” His voice cracks with worry. “Has someone hurt you or threatened you?” 

 

Emma can see the storm brewing in his eyes at the prospect of this.

 

“I will _kill_ whoever lays a hand on you or threatens the life our wee one.”

 

She can hear the protectiveness in his voice. Is this really a man who wants to be with anyone else?

 

Emma shakes her head and wipes the rest of her tears away. “No, my Sultan. Nothing like that. I’m only sad because this may be our last night together.”

 

His brows knit in confusion. “What makes you believe such a thing?”

 

Emma sniffles and shakes her head again. “Because I’m with child. Custom demands a man no longer take a woman to bed once she’s pregnant, as it may risk hurting the baby.”

 

Killian nods and lifts her hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses to her knuckles. He sighs sharply, deep in thought.

 

Emma braces herself. It’s the moment of truth.

 

After a moment, a small smile curves his lips as he gazes into her eyes. “My love, just because we cannot make love doesn’t mean we can’t find pleasures with each other in other ways. Merely holding you and our child in my arms is all the pleasure I will ever need.”

 

Emma lifts her eyes to his, completely stunned by his words, relief washing over her. “Truly?”

 

“Truly.” He kisses her forehead as a grave expression takes over his features, his quivering breath fanning her skin. “I shudder in repulsion at the thought of taking another woman to my bed. They would not be _you._ Not even close.” He holds her tightly in his arms, resting his forehead against hers. She can feel the emotions bubbling inside him. She can hear them in his voice. “The thought of being with anyone else hurts like the worst level of hell. The thought of betraying you or bringing you pain hurts like hell.”

 

Emma’s heart explodes with happiness upon hearing his words. Tears of a different kind sprint to her eyes and a grin blooms across her lips. 

 

“I love you, Emma.” He moves his hand to her belly, caressing her skin again. “I love both of you. I will never love another woman unless that woman is our daughter.”

 

Emma wants to capture those words and keep them forever. “I love you too, Killian.” It’s the first time they’ve ever exchanged these words to one another. 

 

Killian smiles and kisses her lips, both of them sighing in utter relief. “But what will the people of the palace think?” she has to ask. She doesn’t wish to ruin his reputation or how the people of the capital look at him. 

 

He thinks about her question a moment before pulling away and answering. “Emma, do you trust me?”

 

She nods confidently. “With all my heart.”

 

“Then trust me when I say I have a plan that I think will appease everyone in the palace.”

 

“I trust you, Killian. Whatever happens, I trust you. ”

 

Killian smiles and wraps his arms around her and captures her lips. He kisses her breathlessly and sweeps her off her feet, carrying her to the bed. They have one last night of passion before they can no longer engage in lovemaking while she is carrying their unborn child. But it’s certainly a night to remember, full of soft kisses and caresses, full of Killian stroking her belly and speaking to their baby. 

 

Afterward, they’re breathless and panting, trying to reassemble themselves. Emma nuzzles her cheek into his chest and takes his hand, placing it over her belly as they lay there naked. She’s not showing very much, yet they both love their baby with everything they have, already. Emma can see he does in the way he gazes at her belly, she sees it in the way he touches her there, the way he kisses her there. 

 

Killian tells her he will leave in the morning to personally find an expert taste tester and two bodyguards. “I will make sure no harm ever comes to you or our baby. I would rather die than let anything happen to either of you.” 

 

Emma’s heart flutters at his words as he holds her and tells her everything will be okay. She lifts her head and captures his lips. 

 

~*~

 

“I will miss you, my Sultan.”

 

Killian smiles and draws Emma into his arms, kissing her deeply. He kisses her like he’s never kissed anyone before. He kisses her like this is his last day on earth. He strokes her belly while their lips are still connected. He wants to capture this moment and hold it inside his heart forever. They break for air, his hand still on her belly through her clothes, his forehead resting on hers. “I will return soon, my love,” he breathes, his voice shattered and wrecked. 

 

Emma licks her lips and nods. “I will be waiting most patiently, my Sultan.”

 

He caresses her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, beloved queen of my heart.”

 

Emma smiles, her cheeks filling with blush. “I love you, too.” She rubs her belly. “We both love you.”

 

He doesn’t know if her pregnancy has made her more lovely or if her beauty simply magnifies with every passing day, but he swears she is even more exquisite than the day he met her, and that’s certainly saying something.

 

He has to wrench himself away from her and looks at James. “Guard my precious treasures, will you James?”

 

He nods. “With my life, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian’s concierge is the only uncastrated man he trusts with Emma. He can see the love James has for Emma, but it’s much different than what Killian feels for her. Emma’s only been to the palace for a handful of months, but James already sees her as family. Killian feels completely secure leaving his wife and child with him.

 

He kisses his beloved and her belly once more, whispering to his little prince or princess how much he loves them already. He pulls away from them and mounts his horse, smiling at Emma from his saddle. Even though he will not be gone for long, he will still miss her and their baby terribly.

 

Emma’s eyes are warm, full of love as she rests one hand on her belly and waves at him with the other. “Return to us soon, my Sultan.”

 

He nods and winks at her as he turns the horse around and gallops off, his escort of lost boys following behind him.

 

Emma and James watch her Sultan off as he wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple. “Congratulations, my niece.”

 

“Congratulations to you,” she says, smiling at him. “I heard you and Ruby are expecting.”

 

He grins as they turn around and head back inside the palace.

 

“Perhaps our children will be good friends.”

 

Emma nods, but he can tell her mind is running nonstop as she looks at him. “We should tell him, James.”

 

He nods and looks ahead as they walk. “We will, my niece. You will remain here at the palace no matter what, now that you’re pregnant with the Sultan’s child. Nothing will happen to you, but we know not what will happen to me when he finds out. So, after I meet my son or daughter, we will tell him, I promise. We will tell him.”

 

~*~

 

Killian returns to the palace two days later with the things he’d promised. He brings Emma two castrated bodyguards, an expert taste tester who was highly recommended to him and a slave who has already proven her loyalty. She will help Emma by making sure she has everything she needs to feel comfortable throughout her pregnancy.

 

The taster teaches Emma a few tricks and gives her a potion that will make her and the baby immune from any poison she digests if it comes to that. No one knows this though, except for Killian, Emma and the taster.

 

There is only one more thing left for Killian to do to ensure Emma’s and their child’s safety. He’s thought about this over and over during his trip to retrieve Emma’s gifts. He’d meant what he’d said to Emma; he can only stomach the idea of being with her, but perhaps it’s better if not everyone knew of this. Everyone expects him to take several wives, in fact, anything less would be unacceptable, to his mother and to everyone. They will tell him being with one woman is unhealthy. They will tell him he will be left feeling deprived. _Unsatisfied._ They will tell him if he only has one woman, that woman will let the power go to her head. They will tell him she is only trying to control him. 

 

Perhaps it’s better if everyone is oblivious to the fact that Killian only wants one woman. One wife. One mother to bear his children. He only wants Emma and that will not change, no matter how long they cannot make love.

 

He needs to keep Emma and their baby safe and also keep people from interfering with his life. Perhaps he can do both simultaneously. 

 

Perhaps he can kill two birds with one stone. 

 

And he has just the plan that will hopefully accomplish that.

 

~*~

 

The next evening, Emma and Elsa are chatting pleasantly on the couch when Nemo enters Emma’s suite. Both women turn to look at him.

 

“Elsa,” he begins, bowing his head. “Our Master summons you to his chamber.”

 

Elsa’s face pales as she glances at Emma and then at Nemo again. “What?”

 

“The Sultan requests your presence this night at the ninth hour.”

 

“But, I cannot possibly…”

 

Fear strikes him, for no one refuses the Sultan without grave consequences. “You defy the Sultan’s orders?”

 

She looks at Emma, studying her reaction. “Emma, I am so sorry, I do not want this,” she whispers. “You are my friend. I never wish to betray you.”

 

Emma offers a confident smile and takes Elsa’s hands in hers. “You must go to him, Elsa. I will escort you this evening.”

 

Elsa’s face washes over with shock and bewilderment. “You are not upset?”

 

Emma shakes her head. “No, if he is to choose anyone else, I want it to be you. Besides, we made a promise, remember? We will remain friends no matter what happens, right?”

 

Elsa nods. “Yes, of course.” She looks relieved, but still unhappy about this, her loyalty to Emma shining through. It only makes all of this easier.

 

“Now you must go and get ready for our Sultan,” Emma tells her.

 

Elsa studies her friend one more time to make sure Emma is sure about this. 

 

Emma is sure. 

 

Elsa stands and goes to Nemo as he escorts her to her room. Emma doesn’t know exactly what Killian is up to, but she has complete faith in him. She places her hands on her protruding belly from her spot on the couch. “Don’t worry, baby, your papa loves both of us very much,” she whispers, peering down at her stomach. “He will take good care of us.” 

 

She stands up and leaves her room to meet Elsa when it’s time to escort her to the baths, not a shred of worry in her mind or her heart.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: This story takes a dark turn, like fifty shades of dark. Trigger warnings for this chapter and the next include graphic scenes of violence, sexual assault, attempted rape, death threats, death, blood and gore. Some of these warnings involve main characters, but not death. The rest of the story will not be as dark, mostly this chapter and the next. I did my best to balance it out though with some sweet, sugary moments too. So please prepare yourself because by the time you finish this chapter your heart will be shattered into a million pieces, your teeth will be rotted and you'll probably hate me for the emotional wreckage I have put you through. You're welcome ;-) But seriously, this is probably the most fucked up content I've ever written and I basically had to banish any thoughts of possible negative consequences from posting this so I could finally share this chapter with you without changing anything, so please continue with caution. And no, nothing in this chapter is from the show, this all came from my twisted mind. If you're not comfortable with reading about what I've mentioned or if you're unsure about it, please come ask me any questions you may have either in the comment section or on Tumblr under the same user name.

Killian waits for Elsa to enter the room as he paces back and forth. He’s thought about this many times repeatedly but still doesn’t know if it’s a mistake or not.

 

Elsa enters, immediately prostrating herself at his feet. He bends down and gently takes her chin in his hand, urging her up. “That's unnecessary, lass.” 

 

She rises and keeps her head bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He can’t see her face, but judging by her posture, how she stiffens at his touch, he knows she wishes to be anywhere else but here. She doesn’t wish to betray Emma.

 

And that’s what he was counting on.

 

A chuckle leaves his lips, and Elsa finally raises her head, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Is something of humor, Your Majesty?” Her voice is shaking, and when he looks at her joined hands, they’re also shaking.

 

Killian doesn’t respond and instead offers his hand to her. When she takes it hesitantly, he leads her over to his bed. “Relax, Elsa,” he says in a soothing tone and points to the end of the bed. “Please sit.”

 

She does as she’s told, still unsure about this whole thing, but she takes a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. She waits for him to speak because that’s undoubtedly what she was told to do. Not speak unless she is spoken to.

 

“You’re a loyal friend to Emma, aren’t you?”

 

She seems surprised by the question, her mouth parted slightly as she nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

Killian smiles and sits next to her. “I’m glad to hear this… because I need a favor from you.” Killian doesn’t realize what his words could’ve possibly implied until he sees Elsa’s cheeks flush as she looks away from him, her lips trembling.

 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She lowers her head, and he can tell she is on the verge of sobbing. “I will do whatever you wish.”

 

He swallows thickly. “And you promise to keep this a secret? No one must know what I’m about to ask you. No one. Is that clear?”

 

Elsa lifts her head again, even more confused than before. “Of course, but won’t they know what we’re doing in here, My Lord?”

 

“And what is it you think they will know?”

 

Elsa blushes once again, facing away from him. She doesn’t answer for a minute, but he can see the wheels turning, he can see the anger bubbling inside of her. “They will know you are with another woman. They will know you are not with Emma,” she murmurs. 

 

“Exactly.” Killian grins and takes her hand in his, dropping a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

 

She immediately regrets her words and looks at him again, her features etched with apology. “I am sorry, Your Majesty.”

 

“No need to apologize. I am glad we are on the same page.”

 

She raises a brow at him. “Excuse my manners, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid we are not on the same page. I do not wish to betray Emma. She is my friend.”

 

“But you see, Elsa, we are on exactly the same page… I do not wish to betray Emma, either.”

 

Her mouth gapes open as she stares at him in bewilderment. “Then why did you summon me here?”

 

Killian's expression grows serious as his eyes meet hers. He draws in a deep breath, still holding onto her hand between them. It’s not so much of an act of affection, but a plea. His eyes and hands are pleading with her. “You will not say a word to anyone about this? I need your word... for the sake of Emma… for the sake of our child.”

 

Elsa shakes her head. But she still looks a bit confused. “I promise, Your Majesty. Whatever it is you have to say will not leave this apartment.”

 

Killian nods, and he feels he can trust her. He can see the sincerity in her eyes. And Emma trusts her, so he knows he can, too. “I need everyone to believe I am taking more than one maiden to my bed.” As much as the thought pains him, he needs to do this. To protect Emma. To protect their baby. “You will be moved to the apartment of favorites and treated as a Gozde in compensation for your cooperation.”

 

Elsa’s face twists in bafflement. “But why? You only want to be with Emma, so why do you need people to believe otherwise?”

 

“Because they won’t understand. You were taught the different ranks in the Harem, correct?”

 

Elsa nods. “Yes, there are Odalisques and Gediklis, and then there are Ikbals and Gozdes, who have gone to the Sultan’s bed. You can have as many of those as you want, but you can only have four Kadins and one Bas Kadin. I know how it works.”

 

“That’s how it’s _supposed_ to work. I am expected to have four wives, but I don’t want anyone but Emma. I had only one woman before, and she was murdered, along with our unborn child.”

 

Elsa’s features sadden, but she doesn’t seem surprised. “Milah,” she murmurs.

 

He nods. “Aye. The Sultan of Neverland is to take many maidens to his bed, not one, and once word spreads about Emma being my only maiden, people will react. And I don’t want her or our child to suffer because of my actions.”

 

“So, you want to summon me and pretend to take me to your bed?”

 

“I want people to think I am summoning you. They won’t know Emma will be the one coming to my chamber every night. Even when she is with child, I wish for her to be in my arms while we sleep.” He smiles at the image his own words create.

 

“But, what happens when I don’t get pregnant, Your Majesty? I’m still a virgin.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. If they find out you're still a virgin, they’ll think I chose you to pleasure me in other ways, but no one will dare question my actions.”

 

“But they will question you if you only take one woman to your bed?”

 

“They will. My mother especially.”

 

“And Regina.”

 

Killian arches a brow, his eyes narrowing at her. “Why would my sister question me?”

 

Elsa’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

Killian gently takes her chin in his hand again, urging her to look at him. “Tell me, why would my sister question me? And how do you know of this?”

 

Elsa swallows thickly, fear swarming her eyes.

 

His voice remains calm and soothing. “Please, tell me. Remember, nothing we discuss will leave this room.”

 

She nods, and he releases her chin, waiting for her to speak. “Your mother invited me and Emma to her suite for a celebration of Emma’s pregnancy. Regina was there and she was upset because Kira kept referring to Emma as her daughter.” Elsa swallows thickly, hesitant about what she’s about to say, but he offers an encouraging smile.

 

“Tell me, lass.”

 

She nods and lowers her eyes, speaking softly. “Regina said she hoped Emma was poisoned like Milah and stormed out of the suite.”

 

A wave of anger washes over him. His jaw tightens, fists clenching at his sides. His own sister wished death on his wife and child?

 

“But please, you did not hear this from me, Your Majesty.”

 

“Do not worry, Elsa, our secrets are safe with one another,” he assures her in a gentle voice, but on the inside, he is fuming. How could his own sister betray him like this?

 

After Elsa leaves his chamber, Nemo escorts her to the Harem, but not before opening the doors for the enchanting woman whose face is hidden by a veil, apart from her dazzling green eyes. Killian had instructed Nemo to inform Emma what was going on after Elsa had come to his chamber. 

 

As Emma steps into the room, Killian smiles, the sight of her instantly calming him. He has to put any thoughts of hatred toward his sister aside for the time being. He doesn’t wish to ruin his night with Emma by letting his mood set a dark cloud over it. He’ll deal with Regina later. Right now, he has more important matters to attend to. He approaches his beloved, removing her veil and pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes are full of love and warmth as she smiles at him. 

 

“Emma…” he whispers, caressing her chin. “I’ve missed you.”

 

She laughs, her eyes dancing with amusement as her hands move to his chest, fingers combing through the chest hair poking out from the v-neck shirt he’s wearing. “You saw me only this morning, Killian.”

 

His smile fades, his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest as he swallows. “I miss you every second you are not with me, my love.”

 

She touches his forehead with hers, closing her eyes. “I know exactly how you feel,” she whispers.

 

He slides his hand through her hair and captures her lips. They kiss slowly, soon adding their tongues. His love for her consumes him. He knows he has to stop before he has the urge to take things further, for he doesn’t wish to harm their wee one. So he lifts her up, carrying her to the bed. And he just holds her in his arms caressing her belly as they talk. 

 

He tells her about Elsa and what they had discussed. She will be summoned to his chamber, but Emma will be the one going to him every night. “Thank you for trusting me,” he whispers, brushing his lips along her ear.

 

“Of course. When Nemo came for Elsa, I had no doubts about your motives. I knew you were up to something,” she laughs, and he chuckles with her.

 

“I’m so glad my summons did not upset you. It’s the last thing I would want,” he says with sincerity. 

 

She hums a response, her voice raspy with tiredness. In that moment, he realizes just how much she affects him. How much she _influences_ him. He would do absolutely anything in the world for this woman. He’d kill for her, he’d even die for her gladly if she asked him to. Perhaps that’s why Neverland society frowns upon their Sultans having only one wife. He knows that’s why. But he doesn’t care. The traditions and customs of Neverland make him feel imprisoned, like he’s not able to think for himself or do what he wants. Even as the most powerful man of Neverland. 

 

Emma makes him feel less imprisoned, less trapped. Even if his love for her makes him feel powerless. It feels like there’s this huge, conflicting war inside him. He hates feeling trapped, yet he loves being ensnared by the woman in his arms. He hates following his people’s customs, yet he’d do anything Emma asked him to. Killian smiles as he buries his face in her hair, letting her scent invade his senses. If he had to choose between being Sultan and being with her, he would choose _her._ He would choose _them._ Which is why he would rip someone's throat out if they dared threaten to destroy his future with her.

 

~*~

 

The next day, Elsa is moved to the apartment of favorites, next to Emma’s suite, and the palace seems to be content with the Sultan favoring two maidens of his harem. They don’t question the situation one bit. But, there’s still another matter Killian must tend to. 

 

He promised Elsa their secrets would be safe between them and Emma, but he cannot live in the same palace as someone who seeks to harm his wife and child. So he goes to his mother to discuss his sister’s future... her future _outside_ the palace.

 

“How can you do this to me!?” Regina screams as she storms into his chamber full of fire and rage. 

 

Killian doesn't even flinch. He's facing away from her with his hands clasped together behind his back.

 

“How dare you send me off to be married?! I will not go!”

 

He lifts his head, praying that God will give him the strength to not murder his sister. 

 

He spins around swiftly, flooded with hurt and betrayal when he looks at her. It’s as though she’d stabbed him in the back with a dagger, digging the blade deep and twisting it. “How dare you wish death on my wife and child?” He speaks calmly with a controlled tone, but there’s a raging storm brewing inside him threatening to break through the surface.

 

Regina’s mouth opens, her eyes wide with shock. As though she didn’t think he would find out about her betrayal. “Brother, I’m sorry, I didn't mean it," she says, lowering her voice. “I was only upset. Mother treats your Kadin like a queen. She adores Emma just because she’s having your baby. And you will soon have a family to love and cherish. I will never have that.” Her eyes are glistening with tears as she kneels on the floor, bowing to him. “Please forgive me, My Sultan.”

 

Killian chuckles darkly. “So, since you can never be happy, you wish for me to be unhappy as well?”

 

Regina quickly shakes her head. “No, of course not.”

 

He doesn’t believe her. He moves toward her, taking her chin in his hand, and lifts Regina to her feet, his expression hard and cold as she lifts her eyes to his. I want you to answer something for me, my sister.” He says sister with distaste and resentment. “If you don't answer honestly, I won't even send you off to be married.”

 

She sighs in relief but then blinks back at him in confusion. "But, how would remaining here in the palace, rather than being forced to marry some stranger, be considered punishment?"

 

He inhales sharply through his nose and walks away from her, trying his best to maintain his composure. But the thought of his own flesh and blood killing Milah or even wishing Emma harm makes him furious and sad. He could've had a son or daughter living and breathing if not for Milah's death, not to mention Milah would still be alive. But they were both taken from him, and if he finds out Regina had something to do with it, God help her. When he reaches his desk and turns around again, his expression remains stoic as he speaks. “I could consider it your punishment since you would no longer be breathing.”

 

Her face pales, eyes swarming with fear. 

 

“If you are not truthful with me, I will behead you myself and throw your body to the bottom of the sea, is that clear?”

 

She nods. “Of course.”

 

He steps closer to her, holding her gaze with stormy, dark eyes. “Did you have anything to do with Milah's death?”

 

Regina stares at him heavily, her mouth agape, but doesn’t answer. Anger surges through him, his patience wearing thin. He wraps his hand around her neck and swiftly walks her backward until her back hits the wall. His fingers squeeze slightly around her neck to keep her in place as her hands try to pull him away but to no avail. Regina’s eyes widen with fear, as though she wasn’t expecting him to do something like this. This isn’t him, but when his loved ones are hurt or threatened, he’d do anything for revenge. “Did you murder Milah and our child?” he demands again.

 

Regina shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. “No, I didn’t. I swear!” Her words are strangled as he tightens his fingers around her neck, closing her air supply. Bright red colors her pale face as the blood rises to the surface of her skin. Her head wriggles, small, ragged gasps leaving her lips as her fingers claw at his hands, struggling to break herself free from his firm grip. 

 

“Were you planning on killing Emma and our baby?”

 

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, barely able to get the words out, “I swear.”

 

He studies her intently, watching as she looks straight into his eyes without blinking. He can see she is telling the truth. A swarm of relief washes over him and he releases her. She falls to her hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air. 

 

He feels a palpable relief wash through him since he doesn’t have to murder his sister. “I will find a suitable husband for you, you will run off and marry him and you may never return to this palace again, do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” she chokes out, breathing hoarsely, still trying to collect the air in her lungs.

 

“Good.” He leaves her sobbing on the floor.

 

~*~

 

The months pass and the nights grow warmer as the snow over the roofs of the palace slowly disappears. Gepetto retires and hands over his imperial seal and Killian gives it to James, who is shocked at first, but happily accepts. 

 

Meanwhile, Regina remains in the palace, but only while Killian searches for a man suitable for his sister. Honestly, it's not his top priority right now. He's certain he'd frightened Regina to the point where she will not even think about harassing Emma or making idle threats or death wishes. So, his main focuses are Emma and his council meetings, which she attends most days from behind a carved screen. 

 

On the days she is not secretly sitting in on council meetings, Emma is driven mad with boredom. Her bodyguards are always there wherever she goes. When she’s bathing, when she’s eating, when she wants to chat with her friends, when she wakes in the morning after she leaves her Sultan. They’re always there. The only time they’re not allowed around her is when she is in her Sultan’s bedchamber or when she is with him. Those moments are only _theirs._

 

She enjoys the time with her Sultan. But she also enjoys the time away from her guards. They’re around her so much, she can’t breathe. So she sneaks away one afternoon and storms down the Golden Road, tired of feeling suffocated. 

 

“I demand to see the Sultan,” she says firmly to his guards when she approaches his chamber. At the same time, she feels her baby kicking her insides. She groans, holding her belly with both hands. 

 

“Are you all right, Sultana?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snarls through gritted teeth. 

 

One guard knocks on the door and requests permission for Emma to enter. Killian of course never denies her from seeing him.

 

“You may enter, My Sultana.”

 

“Thank you,” she mutters sarcastically and enters Killian’s chamber. She finds it rather ridiculous and annoying that she has to ask permission to see her husband.

 

“My love,” he murmurs as he looks up from his desk and sets down the goose-quill pen next to the parchment he was writing on. “You are certainly a sight for sore eyes.” 

 

Emma blushes as she gazes at him from across the room, all the anger she had held seconds ago instantly vanishes. Just like that. She smiles and strides over to him, sitting in his lap. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her lips, his hand gravitating to her round belly under the creamy white satin chemise she’s wearing. “I can say the same about you,” she coos against his lips, curling her arms around the back of his neck. Her Sultan is devastatingly handsome, though his tired eyes are a dull shade of blue and his hair’s slightly disheveled. 

 

“What can I do for my lovely Queen?” he asks with a warm smile, his hand making soothing circles around her belly. 

 

She sighs. “Killian, I am losing my mind. I know you wish to protect us, but I feel smothered by the measures you have taken. I cannot even leave my chamber without getting permission from my guards.”

 

He glances at the doors with an arched brow. “Do they know you’re here?”

 

She shakes her head. “I snuck away,” she replies unapologetically. “I’ll have to chastise them later for not doing their jobs properly.”

 

He chuckles in amusement. “I’m sorry, Emma, but you and our baby are too precious to me.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and when he pulls away, his expression grows solemn, eyes darkening at a thought. “If anything happened to either of you—”

 

“I can take care of myself. I can take care of _us.”_ The baby kicks again, underneath Killian’s hand, and Emma laughs. “He has not been born, yet he’s already protective of his mother.”

 

Killian’s eyes light up as he watches her belly, seeing the ruckus their child is raising. “You think our baby is a boy?”

 

She shrugs. “I have a feeling. If so, he will be a strong warrior like his father. He’ll be Sultan one day.”

 

He smiles at that. Just then, the baby kicks again, causing her to groan as she holds her stomach. He rubs her belly, speaking in a soothing voice. “No worries, lad, it’s only your papa.” He leans down and kisses her belly. 

 

Emma enjoys her time with Killian, but she knows he’s a busy man and has to get back to work, so she forces herself to return to the matter at hand. “Please ask my bodyguards to back off. I can’t breathe with them always around. At least allow me to bathe in peace.”

 

He sighs, his lips curving into a defeated smile. “I shall, my love. I am sorry I’ve been overprotective.” He lifts his hand to her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. “I love you, Emma, and I want you and our wee one to be happy.” 

 

“Thank you, Killian. We love you so much.” She smiles at him and captures his lips, running her hands through the scruff on his cheeks. The kiss quickly deepens and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. Her tongue sweeps inside his mouth, brushing against his. He groans, and she swallows the sound, sighing in relief. She loves this man more than she could have ever fathomed. She’s so glad she opened her heart to him. She’s so glad she’d put complete faith in him. If their baby is a boy, she hopes their son will be just like Killian. Honorable, loving, caring, protective. She hopes and prays he will find a woman he will love just as Killian loves her. 

 

A knock on the door interrupts them, pulling them down from their cloud of happiness. Emma groans against her Sultan’s lips. She knows it's her guards on the other side of the doors.

 

“I will speak to them, my love,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead.

 

Emma nods and says a thank you before tearing herself out of his lap, reluctantly leaving Killian's bedchamber. But she’s smiling and completely flushed as she leaves, still feeling his soft lips on hers, his tender touches on her skin.

 

After that, her guards give her more space. They're still there, just not as much. Until there are only two full moons left of her pregnancy, and the doctor orders bed rest.

 

She grows tired of resting and knitting and paces her suite with her hands on her belly as they itch to do something that doesn't involve embroidery.

 

She opens her door to find her guards right outside. “I wish to go for a stroll around the palace grounds.”

 

Faraji nods. “Yes, My Sultana.”

 

Her other guard, Lancelot, doesn’t seem to agree, though. “But, Your Majesty, the Sultan asked you to follow the doctor’s orders and get some rest. You don’t wish to put stress on yourself or the baby, do you?”

 

Emma becomes irritated and clenches her fists at her sides. She doesn’t even know why she has two guards. Both are well built, strong and tall, towering over her. No one would dare harass her when one of them is protecting her, let alone both. Although, their personalities contrast one another to the point where it makes sense why they are both her guards. Lancelot is honorable, with warm, kind eyes and an honest smile. He reminds her of a knight from her kingdom. Faraji, on the other hand, almost always dons a cold expression and never smiles while remaining detached emotionally, avoiding any personal connections with his mistress. Normally, Lancelot is the one who’s more lenient with Emma, often showing her his soft side. The two make the perfect pair of bodyguards, and it’s most likely why Killian chose them, rather than based on their sizes and physical strengths alone. “I need to leave this apartment before I go insane.”

 

Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sorry, My Sultana, but we were given specific orders.”

 

Emma ignores him and storms away from her bodyguards, heading downstairs. If they won’t let her leave, she will go herself.

 

“Please stop, Your Majesty,” Lancelot calls after her, but she continues her trek. Faraji follows behind her as she marches through the harem, heading outside. 

 

“The Sultana needs to stretch her legs. I’ll go with her,” she hears Faraji say to Lancelot. 

 

“Fine, but make sure she’s back before the Sultan realizes she’s gone.”

 

“I will.”

 

The harem garden is shaded by high walls, the paths flanked by columns of white marble and overhung with cypress and willow. Emma wobbles along one of the cobblestoned paths, her hand resting on her protruding belly as she enjoys the fresh air. She’s wearing a gold kaftan, an emerald damask chemise underneath and a crown of gold and emerald jewels atop her head, her long golden hair bouncing as she walks. Emma closes her eyes briefly, relishing in the cool breeze sweeping around her.

 

“How is the baby?” Faraji graces her with a smile that highlights his rich black cheekbones as he walks beside her through the garden. 

 

Emma’s a little surprised by his question because during the few months she’s known him, he’s always been quiet and strictly business. Normally Lancelot is the conversational one, always regaling her with stories of his childhood. Usually, Lancelot is the one unopposed to walking with Emma through the garden. She wonders what has changed. “The baby is fine. We just needed to get away. Thank you for not stopping me,” she says gratefully. “I was dreadfully bored in my suite. Sometimes we need to get out for a while,” she says, gently patting her belly.

 

“It is not a problem,” Faraji assures her with a smile. “The Sultan is a little overprotective.” He looks at Emma, his eyes scrolling down her body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Though, if you ask me, he has good reason to be protective of a woman with your beauty.”

 

Emma shudders at his comment and the way he looks at her. The Sultan would kill Faraji for admiring his wife like he is. 

 

“I’ve realized that you and I know little about one another, so I thought we should change that.”

 

Emma nods in agreement, so he tells her about where he grew up and about his family. His eyes glisten as he speaks of his wife and children.

 

“What happened to them?”

 

He looks blankly ahead. “Our village was raided, and my family was murdered in front of my eyes when I was captured. I was then sold into slavery.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmurs, her heart breaking for him. As they walk, a sudden question pops into Emma’s mind. How can a Eunuch marry and have children? He can’t. Which means either he’s lying or… he’s not actually been emasculated. Unless the slaver Killian purchased him from did the deed himself so the Sultan would buy his slave. Slavers resort to just about anything if it means someone will pay more for the purchase. Emma shivers at the memories of being stripped naked in front of all the possible buyers at the auction house. The memories of that experience still haunt her occasionally.

 

She suspects the details Faraji is divulging to her is why he's never engaged her in conservation, for fear she would ask about his past. So why is he telling her this now?

 

She's not sure she wants to solve that little mystery.

 

“I’m sure you are.” He looks at her, but this time, his gaze holds a much different disposition than before. This time he looks at her with disdain, as though he doesn’t believe her heartfelt apology. Emma gulps and averts her eyes from him, looking ahead. 

 

 _Do not show fear,_ she tells herself.

 

“I was taken from my family too, and sold as a slave,” she says, trying to distract herself from wondering what his intentions are. “I was betrayed by a bodyguard I had trusted and was handed off to pirates.”

 

He scoffs. “How can you possibly compare yourself to me?”

 

Emma stops in her tracks and glares at him, placing her hands on her hips. “How dare you speak to me like that?” Her words don't intimidate him. 

 

When he turns toward her and steps into her space, she loses a breath. “You live here in the palace and have everything you could possibly need. You have slaves tend to you, feed you, bathe you, _protect_ you... all because you are pregnant with the Sultan’s child.” He regards her with a condescending sneer. “I would give anything to not be treated as a slave… to have my family back.”

 

Anger rises within Emma as she clenches her fists at her sides. “You think I wanted this life? My parents were King and Queen, and I was taken from them. Just so I could be the mother of the Sultan’s child! I did not ask for this,” she snaps at him. “I’m sorry you lost your children and that you will never have children again,” she adds, to see if he’s actually been castrated, but he gives no indication as to whether he was or not, “but there's no point in being mad at the world for what happened to you.”

 

Emma is taken off guard when she’s pushed back and slammed into the stone wall, a gasp leaving her lips as Faraji grips her arms tightly, pinning her against the wall.

 

She struggles against him, but his grip is too strong. “Unhand me!” 

  
He laughs darkly, his fingers tightening around her skin. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he mutters disdainfully. “I am not mad at the world. I am only mad at the man responsible for murdering my family, and I wish to avenge them. The people who raided my village were Sultan Brennan and his men. Unfortunately, he is no longer around. But you know who is?”

 

Emma gulps, slightly shaking her head. Judging by the evil look on his face, she doesn’t actually want the answer to his question.

 

He leans in, his breath wretched as he breathes against her cheek. “His son.”

 

Fear surges through her entire body as he removes one of his hands, lowering it to her belly, and applies pressure. Emma draws in a sharp breath as though he is trying to suck the life from her, and she's trying to draw as much air into her lungs as she can.

 

“That’s right, your precious Sultan’s late father is responsible for the death of my family,” he snarls.

 

“But you can’t blame Killian for that. He is nothing like his father.”

 

“Is he not, though? All Sultans are the same. They only care about power and passing on their precious legacy.” Faraji presses the pads of his fingers deeper into the skin of her belly through her clothes, and Emma cries out in pain, her eyes wet with tears.

 

“Please don’t. My baby is innocent.”

 

“Oh, it’s certainly not. It’s the spawn of a Sultan.”

 

“My baby didn’t do anything to you, and neither did Killian.”

 

“You’re right, they didn’t. But Brennan did. And since he’s already dead, Killian must pay for the sins of his father. And what better way to punish someone than to hurt the things he loves the most?”

 

“Please,” Emma begs, on the verge of tears. “Don’t kill us.”

 

He laughs and speaks in a sinister tone. A tone that makes her skin crawl. “Relax, princess, I don’t plan on killing _you._ That would be too easy. Besides, what is worse than the death of a loved one?”

 

Emma can barely breathe, her head spinning as she tries to mask her fear. But the thought of losing her baby makes her numb. “What?”

 

“Oh, Emma, you should know this.” He smiles darkly and leans in, whispering in her ear. “Betrayal.”

 

She glares at him. “I would never betray Killian.”

 

“No, I suspected not. At least not willingly. But you’d have no choice if someone forced you to.”

 

“I’d rather die than do anything for you!”

 

He laughs again. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. You see, Emma, you were wrong about another thing.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

He reaches into his trousers and pulls something out. She peers down to see what he's doing and panics. His cock is throbbing in his hand as his eyes sweep hungrily down her body. She can't believe someone would be so stupid as to rape the Sultan's wife, but Faraji obviously has a death wish.

 

“I _can_ have children again.”

 

She gulps, her face paling as she lifts her eyes to his empty ones. “But how? You’re supposed to have been castrated.”

 

“My slaver only said I was so the Sultan would purchase me. He was offering a large amount of gold and was too trustworthy and naïve to ask for proof.”

 

Faraji leans in, pinning her against the wall with his forearm pressed hard across her neck so she can’t escape while he retrieves a potion from his satchel. He pops off the cap with his thumb and drinks it himself before reaching into his satchel again, grabbing another potion. He holds it up and smiles, letting her know this one’s for her. 

 

“No!” she shrieks and turns her head, screwing her eyes shut as he kisses her cheek. 

 

He pinches her nose closed so she can’t help but breathe through her mouth. When she gasps for breath, he takes the opportunity to pour the potion in her mouth. Then he releases her nose and forces her lips shut with his hand, tilting her head back so she’ll swallow down the potion. She coughs and sputters, a small amount of it dribbling down her chin, but most of it ends up down her throat. He doesn’t know that whatever the contents are will have no effect on her or her baby, but she wishes to keep it that way.

 

“I will implant my seed inside you and then kill the Sultan's baby,” he whispers in her ear with a dark smile.

 

His threats enrage her; she can feel the blood boiling under her skin. “It won’t work, you pig! You can’t impregnate me when there’s already a baby inside my womb!” Or so she assumes. 

 

He chuckles, and she can feel the sound in her bones. “That’s what the potion I took is for. It enhances my ability to procreate and speeds up the process. The potion I gave you will cause your body to release an egg while you’re already pregnant. My baby will grow at an exponential rate, soaking up all the nutrients for itself. By the time you give birth to the Sultan’s baby, it will be a dead corpse and mine will be a full-grown newborn, strong and healthy.” 

 

A tear escapes her eyes as much as she’d tried to hold it back. Where did he even procure these fertility potions? He takes her chin in his hand and collects the tear from her cheek with his tongue. “I’m assuming our baby will be a boy because all my wife and I could have were boys.” He leans in, hissing in her ear like a snake. “And he’ll be black as night,” he whispers, enunciating the _t,_ “just like me.” He moves his mouth to her cheek, his warm breath on her skin, making her tremble. He looks at her mouth, the pad of his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Or, seeing as your skin is pure white, maybe he’ll be mixed. Either way, the Sultan will know it’s not his baby.” His eyes dance with excitement and he lifts his gaze to her eyes as the palm of his hand slides over her cheek. “The Sultan will be so enraged that his precious wife betrayed him that I won’t even have to kill you. He’ll do it himself.”

 

“It won't work,” she mutters, her voice unwavering, thankfully, despite the fear surging through her. “I'll tell Killian what you've done. He'll believe me over you and he'll kill you.”

 

He chuckles, not even a flicker of fear in his eyes. “That's what I'm counting on. Do you think I want to live in this world without my wife and children? Revenge is the only thing that fuels my will to live. Besides, if you tell him, I'll just murder you in front of him. He will cut my head off afterward, but at least I will get my revenge first.”

 

Emma tries to move, but he presses her roughly into the wall and smashes his lips to hers, moving his hand to her breasts. Her eyes widen as she tries to pull away, but he doesn’t budge. 

 

He takes the fabric of her chemise, rips it at the top and pulls it away from her chest so her breasts are exposed to him. He takes one in his hand, squeezing it, his thumb toying with her nipple. “Mmmm, there’s nothing prettier than a soon to be mother. With skin glowin’ and tits big and ripe. He lowers his head and takes her nipple in his mouth as he holds her hands against the wall.

 

Emma thinks she might vomit, and it has nothing to do with being pregnant.

 

He spins her around, pressing her against the wall, one hand returning to her breast and the other reaching for her skirts to pull them up. 

 

Once he has her skirts pulled up, she reaches for the leather strap around her thigh and grabs her dagger. He’s unaware of what she’s doing because he’s too busy lining up the head of his cock against her entrance. He pushes her against the wall, his hands gripping firmly around her hips. Before he thrusts into her, she jabs the blade into the side of his leg. 

 

He cries out in pain, releasing her. She quickly turns around and stabs him once again, this time in the stomach. She looks at him in disgust as he grips onto his stomach, and she removes the dagger and does something she’d never imagined she would ever do. But he tried to kill her baby. 

 

She swipes the blade twice at him so he can no longer have children. His screams are unusually high in pitch, and with both hands, he grasps at the area where his testis are supposed to be, falls to his knees and joins his testes on the ground in a pool of his blood.

 

Emma is staring blankly, still gripping the handle of the blade in her hand as though it’s a life source.

 

“Emma? What happened? I could hear the screaming from inside the palace!”

 

She’s in too much shock, too numb to look at Lancelot as he gently grabs her arms, observing the other guard who’s balled up on the ground in his own blood, wailing.

 

“My Sultana, are you okay?” The words sound so far away even though Lancelot is directly in front of her as he turns his head to face her again. 

 

“He tried to murder my baby,” is all she can manage, her voice now weak and shattered.

 

He helps her back inside and calls for the doctor.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! I didn't even realize it's been a month since I last updated.
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNINGS - Please read the warnings before proceeding!!!!*
> 
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of a slave being tortured in multiple ways, enacted by Killian as Emma watches, and also death by execution. For those who do not wish to read, I have added asterisks before and after these scenes. If any of the above makes you squick, I beg of you PLEASE skip the aforementioned marked section.

The Hall of the Divan is the hub of the Empire. For eighty years, in this small chamber under the watchtower of the Second Court, Neverland Sultans had held court four days every week, receiving petitions, resolving legal matters, meeting foreign envoys and deciding foreign and state policy. Every decision, from the most humble legal dispute between merchants to the declaration of war, had been announced in this room. 

 

On the mornings of the Divan, a long line extends across the garden outside as petitioners wait their turn to bring their case before the Sultan. Killian sits on a cushioned dais opposite the door with the Grand Vizier on his right. Generals, military commanders and legal experts sit in their proper order of rank on either side; secretaries and notaries record the imperial decrees and judgments. Only the Sultan may speak. Others are allowed to offer their opinion only as requested, or when speaking out on a particular point of secular or religious law of their specialty. The Sultan’s decree in all matters is final. 

 

On this particular day, they are planning to go to war. In the past, Neverland had constantly faced west in their conquests, but Killian has chosen to head further east for his first war. He wants to go after a country that supported his father and is currently embattled in a civil war. The best time to strike is when your enemies are weak and they are very much divided. He cringes at the idea of leaving Emma and their baby, who will be a newborn, behind, but he knows the soldiers are getting restless, itching for the chance to bloody their swords. It’s been a while since they went to war, and Killian has known since he took the throne, war would be inevitable.

 

When they’re finished for the day, the Sultan and his Grand Vizier part ways so they can tend to their significant others. James and Ruby’s baby is due any day now, so he checks on her every chance he can. Meanwhile, Killian dearly misses his lovely Swan and their baby and longs to pay them a visit. 

 

When he enters the harem however, he can immediately sense chaos. Panicked Eunuchs are scampering about and there is a group of maidens upstairs, gathered outside Emma’s door, wide-eyed and whispering; some of them are concerned and others are clearly only there to see what’s happening. A large lump forms in his throat as he looks up at them and he swallows thickly, quietly climbing the stairs to see if he can hear anything indicating what the commotion is about.

 

“Come, ladies!” Mother Superior claps her hands, trying to wrangle them up with Nemo's assistance. “There is nothing to see here.” 

 

When the maidens turn and head toward the staircase, they see the Sultan ascending the steps. They immediately stop and bow their heads.

 

Killian reaches the top and moves through them as they skitter back to make a path for him. He spots Elsa, the most concerned of the women, and approaches her, gently lifting her chin. “What's going on, lass?” 

 

She looks up at him, shaking her head. “I'm not sure, Your Majesty. A scream came from the garden, and Emma was brought back to her room, but they have told us nothing.” 

 

Fear stabs him, his face paling as he releases her chin. “She was outside?” he asks, his mouth suddenly as dry as a desert.

 

Elsa nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

_ But why? _ She was on bed rest, and he’d instructed her bodyguards to make sure she’d followed the doctor’s orders. But knowing his Swan, she was probably too stubborn to listen. 

 

He nods at Mother Superior, silently instructing her to dismiss the maidens. She does so, herding them downstairs to their dormitories and Elsa disappears into her apartment as Killian continues toward Emma’s double doors. 

 

He is immediately blocked by Lancelot.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but no one is allowed in the apartment.”

 

Anger is added to the mixture of emotions he already feels. “I demand to see my wife,” he orders gruffly, his jaw ticking slightly as he tries to remain calm and collective.

 

Lancelot bows his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but something has happened. Only the physician is allowed inside.”

 

“What happened?” he demands, growing irritated. If he doesn’t receive some answers soon, he might explode. “Is she okay? Is our baby okay?”

 

“I’m not certain yet, the doctor is still examining her.”

 

“What happened?” he asks again, more quietly this time, the concern he feels for her evident in his voice. “Why is Emma being examined?” Killian can see the fear flickering in Lancelot’s eyes like a flame as he lifts his head, and it scares the hell out of him.

 

“She was attacked, My Lord.”

 

Killian is unable to form words for a full minute, even though his mouth is hanging open, a million questions and thoughts racing through his mind.

 

_ Who attacked her and why? Was it Regina, or did she have something to do with it? He knew he should’ve sent her away months ago. _

 

“What do you mean she was attacked?!” he asks, both angered and confused. “It is your and Faraji’s job to protect her! Why is he not with you?!”

 

Lancelot swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily. “Faraji is the one who attacked her, Your Majesty.” With a shaky intake of breath, he leans in, speaking more quietly to keep out prying ears. “He tried to rape her. He tried to murder your child.”

 

Breath leaves Killian’s lungs like the wind extinguishing the lamps. Something inside him snaps. He can’t even describe the intense, blinding rage and emotions coursing through him, his blood bubbling under his skin. 

 

_ Another man touched his wife, hurt her and tried to murder their unborn child?!  _ No,  _ not _ a man. He cannot consider anyone cruel enough to carry out such injustice a man.  

 

“Where is he?!” Killian roars, his menacing tone causing the burly guard to flinch.

 

Trying to recover, Lancelot shifts uneasily, his eyes full of fear and apology. “He’s in the harem garden. The Sultana injured him badly. He lies in a puddle of his own blood.”

 

The only thing holding Killian together right now is the hope that Emma had successfully protected herself and the baby and that the examination confirms they are both okay. She is not some damsel in distress; she is strong and brave. She’s his beautiful queen, and there’s something deep inside him that knows she and the baby are fine. Or so he hopes. “Is he dead?” he mutters through clenched teeth.

 

Lancelot shakes his head. “He wasn’t when I left him.”

 

Though he now despises Faraji in every sense of the word, Killian is glad to hear he’s not dead.

 

He turns to Nemo and orders him to wrap Faraji's wounds so he doesn't bleed to death, and then bring him to the dungeon. Death is not a cruel enough punishment for him. No, Killian has other plans for Faraji. But first, he has to make sure his wife and child are okay. Pulling out his sword, he returns to Emma’s doors and points the tip of the blade at Lancelot, threatening him with it when the guard remains in front of the doors. “Your job is to protect her from other men, not me, you imbecile! Move aside!”

 

The guard raises his hands in surrender and steps aside. “I’m sorry, My Sultan. I told her not to wander off to the garden, but she did not listen. If I’d have known Faraji would attack her, I would have done more to stop her.”

 

“And yet you failed on all counts,” he snarls. “I will deal with you later.” Sheathing his sword, he yanks the doors open and bursts into Emma’s apartment. 

 

His heart shatters into a million pieces. His wife is lying on the bed, holding her belly and there are tears streaking down her cheeks. Guilt rips through him as he looks at his lovely Swan. How could he have been so stupid to have bought Faraji? By doing so, he put her and their baby in danger when he was only trying to protect them from it. Once again, another one of Emma's guards betrayed her and Killian feels responsible. His chest aches as he thinks about the damage this incident has caused, and not just physically, but also emotionally. 

 

The doctor finishes up and gathers her supplies, putting them in her bag before heading toward the door.

 

Killian swallows as he stares at his love, tears swarming his eyes. “Is she okay?” 

 

The doctor nods. “She’s fine, only some bruises and abrasions. Her attacker didn't quite penetrate her before she fought back.”

 

Killian twinges, the thought of someone trying to… defile her, especially against her will. The thought of her struggling against him while she feared for their baby’s life pains him physically, makes him sick to his stomach. The only thing keeping him from finding that piece of scum and murdering him in cold blood is the need to be by her side. Hold her in his arms if he can. “And our baby?”

 

The doctor smiles. “I felt the child moving in the mother’s belly. The baby is fine.”

 

Killian sighs in relief. He’s not sure he's ever been this relieved in his life.

 

The doctor looks at him more seriously as he blows out a long breath. “There’s something you should know, though, Your Majesty. The attacker gave her a fertility potion. There’s no telling if it harmed the baby, though I’m sure it will have no effect since it was a fertility potion and requires the seed of a man to work.”

 

Killian furrows his brows in confusion. “A fertility potion? Why would she need a fertility potion? She is already pregnant.”

 

“According to the Sultana, Faraji was trying to implant his own baby inside her.”

 

Killian’s anger spikes through the roof as he tries to process the doctor's words. “What?” he whispers angrily, trying not to disturb Emma. “How is that even possible? He’s castrated.”

 

The doctor shrugs. “He wasn’t before. But he is now.”

 

“What does that mean?” he demands, thoroughly confused.

 

The doctor leans in closer, whispering, “She took his manhood.” 

 

Killian’s eyes widen. He is astounded and overwhelmed by everything he has heard so far. He’s not even sure he wants to hear anymore. 

 

“That’s all I know. The Sultana was too emotional to press for further details. Besides, I’m only a physician. My only concern is the wellbeing of my patients.”

 

“Of course,” he mumbles contemplatively, still trying to process everything. “Thank you. You may go.”

 

The doctor leaves as Killian hurries to Emma’s bedside. She lies silently, staring at the ceiling, her cheeks still wet with tears. With a quivering breath, he reaches out to wipe her tears from her face. “Emma…” Killian holds back his own tears as he gazes upon her. “I am so sorry,” he whispers gently.

 

Emma blinks, slowly turning her head to face him. “Sorry for what? You did nothing wrong. I am the one who did not listen.” Her voice is weak as she tries to smile, but her lips fail to curve that way. 

 

“Shhhh, my love. You need not speak. You only need to rest,” he murmurs, swiping her hair from her delicate face. He bends over, pressing his lips to her forehead and lingers there for a few seconds, his breath shaking as he pulls away. 

 

He reaches for her hand and brings the back of it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. Emma closes her eyes, relishing her Sultan’s touch. Words cannot express what he feels at the moment. He is fraught with emotion; he trembles at the thought of losing her or their baby. He wants to hold her and tell her everything will be okay, but he doesn't want to hurt her.

 

“Will you lay with me?” she asks, her stark green eyes looking up at him.

 

“Aye, of course,” he answers with a frail smile. “You need not ask twice.” He goes to the other side of the bed and climbs in next to her. He doesn’t want to hurt her though, he doesn't even know where she’s hurting or how much pain she is in. Emma can sense his uncertainty and takes his hand in hers. He shifts to his side, facing her as she places his hand on her belly. He leans in and drops a kiss to her belly through her gown before laying his head beside her, burying his face in her hair. “I love you, Emma,” he whispers in her ear. “I love both of you.”

 

“We love you, too.”

 

He doesn’t ask any questions even though his mind is still dizzy with them. Why had Faraji attacked her? Why did he want her to mother his child? Why did he lie about being castrated? Why did Killian not see it coming? How could he be so trusting when his precious treasures were involved? A million other questions cross his mind, but he is too weak to ask them. Sultans are not supposed to show their weaknesses. Sultans are supposed to be brave and strong and conquer all that stands in their path, but at the moment, all he can do is hold his loved ones close and whisper prayers to his God. 

 

Killian is not entirely sure what had been holding him together before, but now that he can smell the scent of the slave who tried to attack her, now that he can feel her warm body shaking in his arms, the emotions burst through him so violently he doesn’t even see it coming. Sultans are not supposed to cry, but Killian sobs uncontrollably into Emma’s hair as he holds her tight. “I’m so sorry, Emma,” he whispers through choked tears.

 

“It's not your fault,” she tells him repeatedly, but he can’t help but blame himself. Ever since Emma came here, she’s been in danger, and it’s all because his mother wanted him to sire an heir. There is not one single part of him that regrets choosing Emma, but what price will he have to pay for loving her? What price will  _ they _ have to pay?

 

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Emma wakes the next morning feeling extremely sore and tired, as expected, but somewhat at ease knowing Faraji is locked in the dungeon and can no longer bring harm to her or her child. Killian had stayed with them the entire night, never leaving their side. 

 

He is gentle with her, like always, rubbing her belly, covering her in his sweet kisses, singing soft lullabies to their baby that his mother had sung to him when he was a young prince. He makes Emma feel loved and cherished, giving her the strength to tell him what had happened. How Faraji sought revenge, how he'd wanted her to have his child so Killian would think she betrayed him.

 

Killian goes wild upon learning the details of what her attacker had done to her. He transforms from a kind, loving man to an enraged vengeful Sultan who wants to tear Faraji’s head off. And she’s not opposed. 

 

He wants her to stay in bed while he deals with the prisoner, but she refuses. She wants to accompany the Sultan, and after what happened, he does not dare refuse her wish. So he carries her down to the dungeon in his arms and gently lets her down. He enters the dungeon and she follows cautiously behind him, shuddering when she sees Faraji shackled in irons. The memories of what he’d done to her come rushing back, but she faces him, showing no fear. 

 

He sneers at her with a spine-chilling smile, one the Sultan quickly wipes off his face with his fist, leaving the prisoner's mouth full of blood and a broken tooth which he spits out on the floor. 

 

“You will pay gravely for what you have done to my wife... for what you tried to do to our child,” Killian assures him in a sinister tone. He appears to be calm, but there’s a storm brewing inside him. Emma can see it in his eyes. 

 

The prisoner smiles, blood and saliva dribbling down his chin. “Please, after what your father did to me, death shall be my savior.”

 

Killian chuckles darkly as he wraps his hand around Faraji’s neck, pinning him to the wall. What the prisoner hadn’t considered was that first he would be brutally tortured. “Don't worry, your death wish will be granted... eventually. Until then, you will beg me to kill you quickly, but unfortunately for you, death will not be so simple.”

 

Traditionally, Killian’s executioners carry out this task, but Killian wants nothing more than to do the deed himself. He temporarily removes the wraps from his wounds and examines the damage his wife had done to him, grinning proudly. Though, in his eyes, she was far too kind. 

 

The Sultan first extracts information from Faraji to find out if there is anyone else who is after Killian out of revenge against his father. He also questions him about the potions and demands to know how Faraji procured them. When he doesn't speak, the Sultan slowly removes Faraji’s toenails with red-hot pincers, eliciting blood-curdling screams and cries that could wake the dead. He shrieks out praises to his tribal gods, sweat pouring down his body. Killian uses several torture devices until Faraji is mutilated and many of his bones are broken. 

 

Emma watches the entire time, sitting stoically in the Sultan's throne which was brought down for her. She's wearing a dark green, silk gown and a matching cap on her head, clutching at her cloak to keep out the dampness and bone-chilling cold of the dungeon.

 

Killian whips the prisoner and tortures him for hours, even after Faraji insists he knows of no one who is after Killian. He also tells the Sultan he stole the potions from Regina, who had hoped to use them to bear a child. 

 

_ Of course he’d procured them from her.  _ The doctor told Regina she’d never be able to conceive. So it makes sense she would find a way. The question is, who did she planning on using the potions with?

 

Her green eyes never leave Faraji's, the two empty voids revealing nothing but hate as he mocks her with a dark smile and reminds her what he'd planned on doing to her. “It's too bad it didn't work out between us,” he says cruelly, licking his lips as he leers at her. "Our baby would have been a true beauty."

 

_ Crunch.  _

 

Another tooth falls out when Killian punches him in the face to silence him. 

 

"You would not have lived to see it," Killian snarls, his eyes black as he glares at the prisoner in repulsion. 

 

"And nor would she. You would have executed her for betraying you."

 

Killian grits his teeth, and the silk of his robes ripple in the light of the oil lamps as he swiftly moves behind the prisoner, the crack of the whip echoing through the dungeon as he works on Faraji’s back. “Emma would never betray me.”  _ Whop-eesh. _

 

Her lips twist into a slight smile.  _ He trusts her. _ He knows she would never lay with another man.

 

“Yes, it's pretty pathetic how loyal she is to you…” Faraji spits out, “a Sultan. It will only be a matter of time before you toss her away and take another wife.”

 

_ Whop-eesh. _

 

Killian doesn't bother to waste any more words on him. Instead, he finds new ways to torture him, making sure to remind Fariji the reason why he’s carrying out the particular torture. He removes each of Faraji’s fingers for putting his hands on Emma, he cuts out Faraji’s tongue for kissing her, and with the blade of his dagger, he pierces through the skin of his penis for trying to penetrate and rape her.

 

“I would remove your testicles, but it looks like my wife did already,” Killian smirks darkly, pressing the tip of the blade into Faraji’s wound, causing him to squeal like a pig.

 

When Killian is done with him, he has the executioners carry Faraji outside to the decapitation stone, barefoot, battered, dripping blood behind him, with shackled feet and fingerless hands cuffed behind his back. James, his generals, imperial guards and counselors are all dressed in their ceremonial robes as they assemble around the stone. Killian remains inside, behind a latticed window, holding Emma in his arms, a soothing hand on her belly as they watch.

 

James looks at the prisoner in disgust. He’d wanted to behead Faraji himself when he’d discovered what he'd done to Emma, who knows her uncle is doing his best to maintain some sort of semblance so Killian doesn't grow suspicious. James turns to look at Killian for his approval to carry out the execution.

 

Emma is surprised when Killian seeks her consent. “Is this what you want, love?”

 

A tear slides down her cheek as she gently rubs her belly above Killian's hand and gives him a nod. “He tried to murder our baby,” she mutters through a choked sob. “Get rid of him. I never want to look at his face ever again.”

 

Killian briefly squeezes his eyes shut as they redden and well up with tears. He pulls her closer, tightening his arms around her. She peers through the window with her head against his chest as he nods and makes a quick motion with his hands to give the order for execution. 

 

The butcher is a deaf-mute so he cannot be swayed by screams of pain or supplications for mercy; in this case, verbal pleas are impossible since Faraiji does not have a tongue. He shoves Faraji to his knees and forces him to bend over the decapitation stone. He grabs his killic, swinging it a couple of times in the air to warm up his arm muscles, before approaching the prisoner from behind. The blade glitters in the sunlight as the executioner raises the killic above his head, and with a single, expert swing, he severs Faraji’s head, sending it flying to the cobblestone, blood spurting over the decapitation stone and the pavement as a fountain of blood gushes from the neck. Faraji’s eyes are fixed on Emma through the window, as though he's intentionally taunting her, even after his death. 

 

She gasps and buries her face in Killian’s shoulder. He caresses her hair, whispering soft endearments in her ear. “He's gone, love. He can't hurt you anymore.”

 

Emma can tell by the way he strokes her hair, by the shaky breaths he takes that he still blames himself for this. When she lifts her head to look at him, she can see the shame and regret swarming his sea blue depths. “It’s not your fault,” she murmurs, running a gentle hand over his stubbled cheek. 

 

“I'm the one who brought the guards here. If I hadn't, you wouldn't have been attacked.”

 

“Faraji was hellbent on revenge after what your father had done to him. There was no way you would have known. But Lancelot did nothing.”

 

“But that is a problem, love. He did  _ nothing _ to protect you,” Killian mutters bitterly.

 

“He tried to stop me from going to the garden but I was too stubborn to heed his warning. He didn’t know Faraji would attack me. Besides, I can protect myself,” Emma states adamantly, a small smile finally tipping her lips as she recalls the sounds he’d made as she had taken his manhood from him.

 

Killian smiles in return and lifts his hand to her face, the pad of his thumb stroking her cheek. “That is true, my love, you are capable of looking out for yourself.” He expels a frustrated sigh. “I’m just sorry it took me almost losing you to figure that out. But that doesn’t change the fact that Lancelot did not perform his job properly, and therefore he must be punished accordingly.”

 

“Please don’t, Killian,” Emma pleads, her eyes welling with tears. “He’s a good man. Please leave Lancelot be. Let him be free.”

 

Killian raises a brow, taken off guard by her request. He’d known she didn’t want to bring Lancelot punishment, but relieving him of slavery? It’s the last thing he would’ve considered for the bodyguard. Lancelot hadn’t done all he could to protect Emma, and though she shows him forgiveness and sees no wrong in him, when Killian’s loved ones are concerned, he cannot ignore carelessness. He surely can't let it go rewarded. “You want me to free him?”

 

She nods, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “I think my history with bodyguards is proof that they’re only more harm to me than good. Please release Lancelot, do not punish him for Faraji’s sins.”

 

Killian closes his eyes, relishing her touch. He takes a contemplative breath and opens his eyes, peering into those sparkling emerald orbs staring back at him from behind her long dark lashes. Freeing Lancelot it is the last thing he wants to do, but he will never be able to forgive himself if Emma ends up resenting him for it. If Killian carries out his punishment and sells him to another a slaver. He only wants her to be happy. “If that is what you wish, I will make Lancelot a free man.”

 

Emma gasps in surprise, her eyes widening as she searches his face for any indications that he might only be only saying that to appease her. But she finds none. “Really?”

 

He nods, gracing her with a small smile. “Really. I want you to be happy and if that means freeing Lancelot, then I will obey. I will release him before our baby is born. You have my word, my love.”

 

Emma smiles happily and kisses him, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Thank you, Killian. Thank you,” she whispers.

 

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Later that night, Killian helps her out of her garments, gently pulling off her chemise. Emma is embarrassed at first and covers herself, one arm draped over her breasts and the other over her stomach.

 

Killian’s heart cracks as she tries to shield herself from him. “Love, you don't have to hide from me,” he assures in a soothing tone, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek.

 

“I don’t wish for you to see me like this, Killian.” Her eyes fall to the floor. “I am ashamed of how I look.”

 

Killian’s features cloud with sadness as he lifts her chin, urging her to look at him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he murmurs softly. “Remove your hands, please. I wish to see you.”

 

Emma nods, unwilling to refuse his command. She slowly drops her arms, revealing her entire naked form.

 

Killian steps back so his eyes can drink in the full view. Bruises cover her body, and though he’s angered she had to endure them, his breath is taken away by her beauty. Her stomach is big and round and gorgeous, carrying what he can only imagine is just as beautiful and perfect as his wife is. “Stunning,” is all he can say, his mouth watering as his eyes scroll down her body.  

 

Her cheeks color with a slight blush, her eyelids fluttering as she looks at him. “Only a man as good as you is capable of flattering an expectant mother in this position,” she says playfully, a small smile curving her lips.

 

“It’s the truth, my love,” he whispers, stepping closer to her, his hands itching to touch her. He does just that, his hands gently caressing her curves, her pregnant belly, her swollen breasts, coaxing soft murmurs from her lips. He kneels before her and places kisses over her belly, whispering soft nothings to their baby as she runs her hands through his hair. “Killian…” she coos, her eyes locking with his when he looks up at her. “If My Sultan does not stop, I may beg you to make love to me.”

 

Killian closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her stomach, having to restrain himself immensely. He does not want to risk harming their wee one. So he rises, cupping her cheeks in his hands as he softly kisses her lips. He covers her in a white, silk robe and leads her to his bath where he bathes her from head to toe, making sure to kiss every bruise and mark on her body to let her know he loves every... single... part of her. 

 

When she is thoroughly cleaned, he helps her into her robe and carries her to his chamber. They slip into bed, underneath the covers, and he holds her tightly in his arms, his mind weighing heavy with thoughts. 

 

He’s still upset with himself for what had happened. He still blames himself. As Emma lies next to him, her angelic face buried in his chest, he can't help but wonder if she would be better off in Misthaven. Her parents could take care of her and give her the parental love she craves and deserves. The thought saddens him, it makes his heart hurt so bloody much, but he wants his Swan to be safe. Even if that means he has to let her go.

 

“Emma…” he murmurs softly, getting her attention. 

 

She slowly lifts her head to look at him. “Yes, my love?”

 

He gets lost in her eyes as she awaits an answer. She’s so enchanting and lovely and intelligent, he doesn’t wish to let her go, but he knows he has to. He has to let her and their baby go. He has to accept his fate. His fate of eternal loneliness and darkness. Because that’s all he deserves.

 

“Emma…” His voice cracks, so he clears his throat as he caresses her cheek. “Emma, I think you should return to Misthaven.” 

 

Her face falls in confusion. “What?”

 

“I think… I think you and our baby will be much safer there.” As he says the words, his eyes fill with tears and his heart physically hurts.

 

Emma pushes herself up, shocked as she stares at him in disbelief. “You… you want me to leave?”

 

He shakes head. “God, no. But you were almost…” he swallows thickly, unable to finish his sentence. “And our unborn child could be dead. Neither of you is safe here, Emma.”

 

Her eyes glisten with tears and she shakes her head furiously. “I am not going anywhere. I did not endure what I did to be tossed away.”

 

“Emma, I would never toss you away,” he says, tears falling down his cheeks. “I only want what is best for you. For our child.”

 

She shakes her head again and raises her voice. “Leaving you is not what is best! Our child will be without a father! And what if he is a boy? The Sultan’s prince cannot be parted from him!”

 

More tears fall from his eyes as he cups her cheeks in his hands. “So we fake your deaths. You’ll both escape and no one ever has to know you’re both alive and well. No one will be able to hurt either of you again.”

 

Her eyes widen. She’s completely appalled he would even suggest such a thing. “That’s absurd! I will not go! You cannot make me!” She breaks down into tears and he sits up, holding her tightly in his arms. “I refuse to leave you,” she mumbles into his chest through her tears.

 

His heart crumbles into a million pieces. There’s nothing in the world worse than seeing his Swan cry, unless her tears are happy ones. But these are definitely not. “I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers, rubbing her back. “I don’t want to lose you. Which is why I will not force you to go if you are against the idea. But just know, you can leave if that is your wish.”

 

Emma lifts her head, her eyes puffy and red as he wipes her tears away with his thumb. “I would never wish to leave you.” She cups his cheeks in her hands, capturing his lips, which are wet with his tears, and now hers as she mumbles against them. “I love you, Killian, and I will be by your side for as long as you can stand me.”

 

Killian smiles weakly as he presses his forehead against hers. “Then, I’m afraid you will be stuck with me for eternity.”

 

She laughs for the first time in days, and the gentle chime of her giggle revives his heart. It makes him smile.

 

“Mmm, my favorite sound,” he murmurs, causing her grin to widen. “I love you, Emma. I love you both,” he adds, affectionately caressing her belly. “I will always love you.” 

 

“Good,” she whispers, her eyes falling to his mouth.

 

He catches the movement of her eyes and seals his promise with a long, searing kiss. He lifts his hands, sliding his fingers into her hair as they tumble onto the bed, their lips still latched. Despite the earlier events, they both fall into a deep, peaceful slumber in each other’s arms.

 

~*~

 

They have breakfast the next morning in his apartment before he leaves to visit his mother to fill her in on what had happened. Though she's most likely already heard about the execution. But it’s important for him to have his bonding time with his mother. 

 

Emma decides to stay in his chamber for a while longer before she grows restless and decides to return to the harem. She’s sure her friends are worried sick about her and she misses them, even though it's only been a few days since she’d seen them. She dresses and leaves, making her way down the golden road, still feeling a bit sleepy from the nap she’d taken. 

 

She thinks about what Killian had offered her last night. Though she misses her family dearly, she could not bear to leave her Sultan wife-less and childless. She hates being away from him, she hates how little she sees him as it is, but the thought of never being with him again, never seeing his handsome face, never feeling his strong hands on her soft skin or being blessed with his tender kisses, never feeling the warmth of his body next to hers makes her ache all over. He is her family now, and so are her friends and uncle. She can’t bear to leave them. She does wish to see her parents and brother again and let them know she’s okay, but a Kadin leaving the empire to visit them would be impossible unless she found a way around it somehow. Even if she did, her parents wouldn’t understand her lifestyle here. They wouldn’t understand her love for a Sultan who rules a land where women count for less than animals.  

 

Emma rubs her belly, which is fairly hidden underneath her layers of clothing as she wobbles along the corridor. She’s not as sore as she was yesterday, but still not able to move very fast, so it feels like everything is in slow motion. 

 

She spots James emerging from a hall, and she's about to call for him, but something about him seems peculiar. He’s wearing his usual robes, but he appears to be lost as he looks in the direction opposite of her. He starts to head that way, but then stops and scratches the back of his head before he gets very far.

 

Lifting a brow, she continues toward him until he's only a meter away. When he suddenly turns around changing directions, Emma stops frozen in her tracks.

 

He pauses as well, donning the exact same, gobsmacked expression she does.

 

She can’t believe it. But she can. The eyes, the face, the walk. How confused he is. How unfamiliar he is with the palace. She knows without a doubt it’s _ him.  _ The question is _ how?  _ Is she dreaming? 

 

She steps up to him, reaching out to touch his cheek which does not hold a scar. Which feels pretty  _ real _ to her.

 

He lifts his hand to hers and with a broken smile and a broken whisper, he speaks, “Emma… I knew I’d find you.”

 

“Papa?”

 


End file.
